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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977079">Baby, it's a violent world</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandzilkos/pseuds/mandzilkos'>mandzilkos</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Formula 1 RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Physical Abuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:54:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>31,824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977079</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandzilkos/pseuds/mandzilkos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A little while later, Charles whispered, "My soulmate's an amazing artist."</p><p>Max almost choked in surprise. He turned to Charles again and Charles was leaning back in his chair, squinting into the telescope, which was pointed right up above him. </p><p>"Yeah?" Max managed to say. </p><p>Charles put down the telescope and nodded. "I used to get these really nice flowers on my skin. And really beautiful, intricate patterns. I loved them. I took them as little gifts from my soulmate to me."</p><p>"That's nice," Max smiled. He hadn't imagined it would make him so happy that Charles liked his little skin drawings. </p><p>"They've stopped, though." Charles absentmindedly ran his fingers over his arm. "I don't know why. Maybe they got busy. I hope they're fine."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>243</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. You wait a lifetime to be found</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/56/dd/78/56dd7802ff5e0660e1d4e2d3235eb2f2.jpg">this</a> soulmate au prompt: au where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker, it will show up on your soulmate's skin as well.</p><p>I'm back with my lestappen nonsense...this one is really heavy and quite dark, so please feel free to stop reading anytime at all if you're uncomfortable. </p><p>Comments and kudos will be much appreciated &lt;3 And you can find me on tumblr at olivertorres.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In Max’s childhood, it had only been the usual – paint splatters, colourful markers, and the occasional crayon stain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They disappeared as quickly as they possibly could, as quickly as they would appear. At least he knew his soulmate was tidy, or they had tidy and responsible parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max counted himself lucky that the marks were gone, washed off on his soulmate’s side, most times before his father could see them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when they didn’t, then it would only mark the beginning of a whole new kind of hell for Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t matter that they had no paint or markers or crayons around the house. It didn’t matter that Max was given no free reign to be creative at all, so much so that he couldn’t even grasp the concept of making art until he was placed in front of an empty canvas in primary school art class.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father took them either as signs of Max’s rebellion, or the fact that Max could have a beautiful future waiting for him, a soulmate, someone who could love him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Either way, it left Max with bruises and marks far more numerous than a seven-year-old kid like him could count towards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max prayed that his soulmate’s parents would never stop being clean and efficient.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was in that primary school art class where it all began to come together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Presented with any sort of blank space, Max could find his escape; no matter the material, or the type of paint, or the tools he had available. For hours and hours, Max would be off in his own world making art, his mind free from worries and his skin and bones free from hurt. Even his father could find fewer and fewer excuses to be mad at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t stop him, but neither did it stop Max from seeking this escape whenever he wanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max had gotten so accustomed to the discolouration on his skin after every one of his dad’s episodes that it didn’t seem strange to him anymore over the years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when one of his primary school classmates commented on how he must’ve been a pretty active kid because of all the bruises he got, it really spiked Max’s attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If his dad knew people knew, then Max would never hear – or feel – the end of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did like playing a little football, so he decided to use that as an excuse in the meantime, especially since it wasn’t like he could saunter around in long-sleeved clothing in the summer months without melting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One time in math class, he was so bored that he started doodling little lilies on his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And from that day onwards, that became his solution.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s skin became decorated with flowers and leaves and sometimes little comics, instead of brown and yellow bruises, and no one asked about them because all his classmates knew how much art was his thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t really occur to him that his soulmate would see those drawings, too; and when it eventually crossed his mind, Max didn’t think his soulmate would mind too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if they did, they didn’t respond, despite it being so blindingly easy to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max decided that those drawings would serve two purposes then: one, to protect himself from any questions, and two, as little gifts to his soulmate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max guessed his soulmate wasn’t into art like he was, because the little marks on Max’s skin didn’t appear again until midway through secondary school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when they did, they weren’t so much art pieces or a direct call to Max as they were simply little reminders. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Friday 2pm music room. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Get eggs after school. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Saturday morning shopping for birthday gift. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Text about dinner plans.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Max would trace the words with his fingers until they were washed off by his soulmate quickly after the time they stated, with no need for them after they’d served their purpose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It always made him smile when the words appeared, along with the thought that his soulmate was nothing far from an adorable scatterbrain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max wasn’t really too bothered about looking for them. It was just going to be another person, another good thing in his life that his father was going to ruin for him. Another person that Max knew would end up not belonging in his life, despite what the universe said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, Max wasn’t sure where they’d be, which corner of the world they’d be hidden in. He knew they were nearby, he knew that was how they would find each other, but. Who was to say that the music room written on his hand was the one at his school? Max didn’t dare hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just continued watching the words appear on his skin, trying to memorise how they were written, how the i’s were dotted and the s’s curled. How neat it always looked although it was written in a rush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until the day the words appeared on the inside of his forearm, the words forming slowly like they were a gentle reminder instead of a hassle to remember: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pick up guitar after school Tuesday.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was only one music shop in their little town. Max wasn’t sure what kind of unimaginable bravery and curiosity had taken over him, but on that Tuesday afternoon after school he found himself standing outside the dark green door of that very music shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bell tinkled a soft welcome as Max pushed the door open. Besides the lady at the counter, there was only one customer in the back browsing the old records.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was still panting from how quickly he’d walked from the school to the shop, so he assumed whoever they were, his soulmate wasn’t such a big loser and hadn’t made it there so quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While waiting, Max decided to take a look at the drum sets that his father would never imagine letting him have. Max thought that he’d enjoy playing the drums, enjoy another more physical way of venting his frustrations other than to paint or draw them. Maybe his father would enjoy hitting the drums instead of Max. Maybe it’d be a good idea to introduce the idea of drums into their house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max could only chuckle at that thought and how impossible it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was twirling a drumstick in his hand when the bell tinkled again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A boy around Max’s age stepped into the store, eyes beady and wide. He went straight to the counter and Max heard him say, “Hi, I’m here to get the restrung guitar? Collecting for my brother Arthur.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was in that instant that Max wondered how many guitar pickups this store received on any given day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His anxiety was laughable, honestly. Max never even cared so much before that day. His soulmate was just his soulmate, and they were just out there existing, and Max had never questioned it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max peeked out from behind one of the music book shelves. The boy was...he was conventionally handsome, and he spoke like he thought he was small and unnoticeable despite everyone knowing almost everyone else in this town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max recognised him from the school hallways; they didn’t have any classes together, but Max was pretty sure they were in the same grade. He didn’t know his name. And he didn’t know if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>was his soulmate, or if his soulmate was the Arthur who couldn’t make it to collect the guitar that day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy stood waiting as the lady disappeared into a back room to get his guitar. Max slowly crept closer until he could see his arm, the inside of it where Max hoped to see the same words in the same handwriting that was written on his own, in the same place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t really that difficult, because the boy started scrubbing his arm, and even though Max couldn’t see what he was rubbing off, he saw the words on his own arm slowly get smeared off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max blinked, and the lady had returned with the guitar and was staring at him along with the boy, anticipating his response. Max hadn’t noticed that he’d floated his way to the end of the front counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without thinking, and completely flustered by the way the boy who was almost definitely his soulmate was </span>
  <em>
    <span>staring </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him, Max grabbed a box of guitar picks from the display below the front counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached into his pocket to find some money before realising that his dad hadn’t given him any that day, and even if he had, Max could barely spare any money to get a juice for after school, much less to spend on a pack of guitar picks he didn’t need.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I –” Max felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment as he tried to find his voice. He took the box and placed it back on the shelf. “I forgot my wallet. Sorry. I’ll come by again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get them for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy’s voice rang out as Max turned for the door. He was staring at Max again, but this time his gaze lined with concern. Max wanted to point out that they didn’t even know each other, but before he could, the boy had already gotten his wallet out of his pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve seen you around at school. You can just pay me back whenever,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Max left the store with a new pack of ten guitar picks and no guitar to use them on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said as they stood on the street by the green door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it,” the boy beamed. “Which way are you headed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was suddenly nervous about having to make small talk, so he took a chance and pointed in the opposite direction he was supposed to head along. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was lucky that it was also the opposite direction that the boy was leaving in, so all Max received was a little wave before he heaved his collected guitar over his shoulder and started walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Max heard himself calling. “What’s your name? So I can look for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Charles.” The most boyish smile appeared on his face. “You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you around, Max.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max opened the box of picks and fidgeted with one as he took the long way home, smiling to himself as he realised his heart was now pounding hard for a whole new different reason than him having walked too quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The picks weren’t expensive, but Max still only managed to save enough money out of his measly lunch allowance after more than a week had passed. And he had to skip lunch altogether for three days on top of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would rarely, if at all, see Charles in the hallways. And when he did, he tried his best not to get noticed. It was always embarrassing, owing someone money.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he’s nice, he wouldn’t mind it,” Lando pointed out. “Besides, he offered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was Max’s best friend ever, the only person in the world who knew about Max’s dad, but still Max found it hard to comprehend his thought process sometimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max hadn't told him about the whole soulmate thing, though, so it was no surprise he was being so dismissive about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He just makes me nervous," Max said. It was the closest to the truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"In a bad way, or in a 'I really want to be friends' way?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max didn't really want to admit it, but since it was Lando, he said, "The second one."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Psh. C'mon. I'll help you pay him back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have money to pay him now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll buy lunch for you then," Lando said, as if he already knew what that meant about Max's pocket money. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They saw Charles that day in the stairwell between classes. Max had the money in a little baggy ready for Charles, but he was a little embarrassed that it was mostly just some coins thrown together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles certainly didn’t seem to mind, though, if the look on his face as he took it from Max was any indication. He gave Max a big smile and a wave before leaving with some friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that went smoothly,” Lando said. “Why were you so nervous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max didn’t reply, but only partly because he didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was so nervous himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spent the rest of the day watching his forearm, waiting for Charles to write down his next appointment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max really hadn’t been planning on being a creepy ass stalker, but it was just so easy when Charles literally gave away his location all the time. And really, Max was spurred on by the adrenaline their first meeting had given him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went with Charles to the grocery store once to pick up lemons for his mom, without Charles’s knowledge. He didn’t buy anything unnecessary that time, fortunately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles met his friends at the local coffeeshop one time, and Max made sure to have Lando with him when he went, so he could borrow some money to pay for the ridiculously overpriced coffee. The only price he paid was Lando’s incessant questioning about why he was suddenly into coffee. Max honestly didn’t understand why he was complaining. The coffee tasted divine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max found out Charles was in the drama club when their extracurriculars restarted after spring break and Charles wrote </span>
  <em>
    <span>drama club reunion 3pm theatre </span>
  </em>
  <span>on his arm with five exclamation points. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew drama club practice in the school theatre was open to anyone who wanted to watch, so he decided to pop by and sit right at the back, in the shadows where he hoped no one would see him. There were a handful of other people scattered in the rows in front of him, probably here to see if drama club was worth trying out for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>star</span>
  </em>
  <span> on stage. It might’ve been their first practice, and they might not have done anything much besides some voice exercises and discussing about their next work, but the way Charles carried himself around other people just...amazed Max. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat in place for a while after everyone dispersed, hoping not to run into Charles and have to explain himself. The theatre emptied out soon enough, leaving him alone in the very back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was until Charles popped in again through the back door, took one look at Max, then approached and took the seat next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Max.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max felt his palms get instantly sweaty. He turned his arm inwards so Charles wouldn’t see the matching writing. “Hey,” he said. Charles was wearing a different t-shirt from earlier, so he’d probably just left to change. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw you from the stage earlier,” Charles said, sounding eager and happy that Max was there. “Are you thinking of joining?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max really wasn’t, but he actually contemplated for one moment as Charles peered at him with his big round eyes. “No,” he eventually decided to say. “Just came to pass time. I don’t really have to be home yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can walk together,” Charles suggested, standing up again and hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So they walked together out the school gates, and Max honestly thought his heart was going to jump out of his mouth and flop on the street like a dead fish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you do any extracurriculars?” Charles asked after they’d walked silently for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in the art club.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, cool,” Charles said. He sounded like he had something to add, but eventually didn’t. “Hey, what classes do you have?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without even thinking too much about it, Max took his timetable out of his folder and showed it to Charles. Charles did the same, the two of them exchanging their schedules and pondering over them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t have a single class in common, but they did have the same lunch period. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles picked up a sandwich on the way home, but Max thought about how he'd already spent all his money on lunch, and decided to go home hungry. They passed Charles's house first, which was good because Max wasn't sure if his father was already home from work and how he would react if he saw Max with a friend who wasn't Lando. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We can have lunch together sometime," Charles suggested, waving at Max as he walked up his driveway. Max didn't really have time to respond save for a quick nod, so he spent the extra five minutes long walk home wondering if he appeared unfriendly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando was leaning out his bedroom window, on the second floor of the house next to Max’s, as Max walked by. “Where’ve you been?” he yelled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that he was yelling like that told Max that his dad wasn’t home yet, so he yelled back, “I was hanging out with Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando was down the stairs and out the front door at superhuman speed, dragging Max by the sleeve to sit on his own porch in case his father came home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you friends now? Tell me everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Lando was this excited without even knowing Charles was Max’s soulmate, Max could only imagine how much more delighted he’d be if he knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decided to wait it out, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat on Max’s porch until the sun went down, Max talking about Charles and Lando nagging at him not to neglect him in favour of his new friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thing Max liked most about spring was that he could wear his sweaters and it wouldn’t be weird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It certainly came in handy when his father decided to vent his frustrations on Max when things didn’t go so well at work, but Max couldn’t help but shift the blame to himself for not doing so well on his spring block tests. Not well enough for his father’s standards, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max woke up every morning that month of spring bruised and battered and sore to his very core, exhausted even though he’d slept a full eight hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had lunch after PE class on Wednesdays; Max always drew with a permanent marker on days like this, so he wouldn’t sweat the ink off and reveal all the ugly whip marks and deep purple bruises. He’d put his sweater back on right afterwards despite still being sweaty, much to Lando’s horror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was thankful it turned out to be a good idea, because they ran into Charles in the cafeteria during lunch, desperately calling for their attention as they walked by with their trays. He was sitting with a friend, a boy with thick curly hair whom Max had seen with Charles a couple of times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max! Come sit with me and Daniel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max exchanged a look with Lando, who seemed to successfully hide his excitement behind a casual gaze. They sat down next to Charles and Daniel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was simply too exhausted to make proper conversation, what with the way his body was beginning to ache from the combination of bruises and PE, so he sat listening to Lando carry it on his back like a pro. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max, you’re quiet,” Charles noted eventually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s just tired,” Lando helped to reply. “He’s good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles still eyed Max curiously, and gave a little concerned smile when Max met his gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max wasn’t sure how such a beautiful boy could exist, and he was fully sure he didn’t only think that because Charles was his soulmate. In fact, if Max didn’t look down and see the little permanent marker flowers peeking out from under the edge of Charles’s hoodie, he would’ve had some trouble believing that Charles was </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> his soulmate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright,” Max heard himself say, and Charles’s smile grew bigger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lunch period ended way too quickly, the time flying by like Max realised it seemed to do when Charles was around. They had different classes afterwards, so they dispersed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max headed out of school together with Lando after the last bell, Lando armed with an extra sandwich from the vending machine like he knew Max would be hungry. He nudged Max in the shoulder with his own, knowing that was the only extent of touch Max could tolerate on any normal day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really are quiet today,” he said. “Quieter than usual.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just really tired,” Max said. It wasn’t a lie. His entire body hurt. But he didn’t really want to say that out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need anything?” Lando asked. “Some antiseptic? Cream? A massage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It conjured a chuckle out of Max. “I’m good, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you know which window to throw stones at if you need me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Lando.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked quietly until they were outside the centre of town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So Charles and Daniel were cool, no?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now I know why you wanna be Charles’s friend. Where did you even meet him? Is he in math with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Math was the only class Max and Lando didn’t have together. Max thought of coming clean about Charles being his soulmate; he knew Lando’s soulmate had moved to the big city before they could meet, and even though they still talked on the phone and occasionally gave each other sweet little messages on their skin, Lando was quite mellow about never having actually met the girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s my soulmate,” Max eventually said. “Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando was quiet for a really long time, and if Max didn’t know him as well as he did, he would’ve thought Lando was angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” he finally asked. “Charles is the one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did you find out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last year at the end of fall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Max.” Lando’s voice was soft. “Tell me everything. I don’t know why you didn’t tell me. But I’m not mad. Just tell me now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max wanted to cry, but he hated how emotional he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He told Lando everything, about the music shop and the coffee shop and all the writings on his arm, and afterwards he felt as if all the bruises on his body had suddenly all healed at once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He can see, then?” Lando asked, gesturing at his own arm, where Max usually drew. “What you draw?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded. “But he doesn’t know. I haven’t told him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just –” Max started, but in that very moment all the remaining threads that were holding him together snapped, and Max was choked up by the tears that started rolling down his cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando was unperturbed, though he looked like he would wrap Max in a hug if he wasn’t aware of Max’s absolute disgust at being touched. “You think that he wouldn’t like you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max shrugged. “I think – I just don’t think he would deserve all the...all the shit that comes with me. Just because we’re soulmates. I don’t...I can’t just drag him into it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max,” Lando said, sounding disappointed. “I think when he gets to know you better, he’s going to absolutely love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A hundred percent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lando, whatever will I do without you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. Your life would suck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max really was convinced it would.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lando began to leave Max alone with Charles for lunch once he knew about the whole soulmate thing. Max informed him that this went against all of Lando’s initial comments about abandoning him for Charles, but Lando only waved those claims away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daniel occasionally joined the two of them, but he seemed to have a big group of his own friends which he went off with most of the time, playing right into Lando’s plan. It seemed like Charles usually had lunch alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max began noticing a problem when he didn’t have enough money for lunch and had asked Lando for a loan enough times to be embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would sit across from Charles as Charles picked at his plate of food while Max had nothing in front of him. The first few times Charles asked, Max just said he wasn’t hungry, but after a few times that reason got old, and Charles began to catch on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want some of mine?” he asked, pushing his plate halfway across the table. “I won’t finish it anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was absolutely starving. He’d had some bread for lunch the previous day, and then no dinner and breakfast, and there had been nothing to eat in the fridge, and to top it all off his dad was in a bad mood so he hadn’t gotten any lunch money. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eyed the half-finished plate of food Charles was pushing at him, then turned to Charles, who raised his eyebrows and pushed the tray even closer to Max. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max would’ve been embarrassed at the way he devoured that plate of food, but Charles didn’t say a word, so he pretended it was normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. “We can share next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright. I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Charles said, but refused to elaborate. Instead, he offered Max his half-full carton of juice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such wonderful people in his life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They did end up sharing the next time, even though Max had gotten himself a sandwich again for lunch. The way Charles insisted Max eat something more substantial, it really was hard to reject him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few weeks later, Charles appeared at their usual table with a Tupperware of warm soup and placed it in front of Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had my mom make this for you,” he said. “We had it last night for dinner and it was great so I asked her to make some this morning so you could try it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max had to blink his tears away then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. “I hope you like it. I can ask her to make more next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soup tasted heavenly, a creamy tomato and mushroom blend with little bits of chicken in it. Max finished it all in less than ten minutes as Charles watched, impressed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like it?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s delicious. Thank you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile reappeared on Charles’s face. “I’ll ask her to make more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to trouble her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’ll just be so happy that you like it. She can’t stand the thought that you don’t eat lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max smiled into the empty Tupperware. “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max,” Charles said softly. He reached across and grasped Max’s wrist, and Max involuntarily recoiled, making him let go. “Sorry. I just wanted to say, I noticed that maybe...you don’t get enough money for lunch. And...I’ll buy lunch for you if you want. And I’ll share mine with you if you don’t have enough. My mom will cook for you, too. And we don’t ever have to talk about it or be all deep about it. ‘Cause you’re my friend and that’s what friends do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…” Max closed his eyes, hoping it would hold his tears in, but opened them again when that failed. “I live with my dad, and he’s...I’m – he’s not very nice to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A short silence, then in a whisper so soft it was as if Charles was afraid it would turn out to be the truth, “Does he hit you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max hung his head further, and Charles took it as a nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached over as if to grab Max’s wrist again, but Max twitched and Charles remembered how he’d responded earlier, so his hand returned to his own half of the table. “I’m so sorry, Max.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m –” Max shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped this on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just thought that...if you’re gonna help me like that, I probably owe you an explanation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t owe me anything, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. Charles. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence hung comfortably around them until the bell rang to signal the end of their lunch period.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max could barely hold himself together for the rest of the day. He pulled his hood over his head for the rest of his classes and cried quietly into his sleeves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max’s favourite part of every day was lunch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes Charles would have an extra tray of food already ready for Max, without even asking if Max had enough money to get his own that day. Other times, his mom made more soup for Max. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His second favourite would have to be the times Charles, like Lando so often did, understood that Max would rather spend some time out of the house after school if he could afford to, rather than go straight home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would go with Max and sometimes Lando and Daniel into town, just walking and browsing and not buying anything. Other times, they would find a coffee shop and sit down to study, and Charles would get a cup for Max without asking any questions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once, Charles brought him to a nice little café which Max knew instantly he wouldn't be able to afford, but Charles only said, "You can pay me back anytime," and dragged Max inside by the sleeve because they had really nice soup and Max seemed to really like soup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Other times, Max went with Charles to run errands, errands which he already knew from where they reflected on his arm from Charles's. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had extracurriculars on different days, but sometimes Charles would find him in the art studio and wait for him so they could walk home together. Max returned the favour on drama club days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Max said one day as they were walking down the main street towards the bookstore. “You don’t have to be so nice to me, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Charles said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I know I’m...it’s a lot, with the money and everything, and I’m not your responsibility.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Charles said again. “You’re my friend, you know? And I can help you, so I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…” Max had to try his best not to cry again. “I’ll pay you back. I promise. I don’t know how long it’ll take but I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to worry about it. I know that...I’m lucky that I was born into the family I’m in. And not everyone has that, and I can share that with you, a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be a burden to you, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. “Look at you. We’re not even sixteen and you’re talking about burdens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you, we don’t have to talk about it. But if you want me to stop, I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanna hang out with you,” Max said, slightly embarrassed by how truthful he was being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles beamed at him, and raised an arm like he wanted to sling it over Max’s shoulder, but changed his mind when Max drifted slightly to the left to avoid him. “We’ll hang out,” he said, bumping shoulders with Max instead. “I’ll be your friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Max whispered. “So...bookstore today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles looked surprised then, and turned to Max so quickly Max was worried he'd given himself whiplash. “How’d you know I need to go to the bookstore?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max swallowed nervously, having forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to know. He instinctively plastered his arm to his side, despite knowing that Charles couldn’t see the words below the sleeve of Max’s jumper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saw it on your arm,” Max gestured vaguely to Charles’s arm, pleased that he could react so quickly. He saw Charles examine his own arm, on which was written the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>check price of science textbook.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah.” Charles didn’t seem to find anything amiss. He rubbed absentmindedly at the pen ink on his arm; Max couldn’t feel it, but he could picture in his mind the sight of the writing disappearing on his own skin. “I started writing reminders on my arm last year because I was forgetting too many things. My parents and my brother Arthur couldn’t take it anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s cool, if it works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does.” Charles looked like he wanted to say more again, but didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max followed Charles around the bookstore, watching as he got distracted by all the different sections and eventually forgetting to even look for the science textbook. And he realised how Charles was exactly the adorable scatterbrain that Max had suspected he was since day one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>take Max for surprise coffee after school</span>
  </em>
  <span> appeared on Max’s arm on the last Friday of the school year, he couldn’t help but laugh out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He showed it excitedly to Lando, who did the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>adorable</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said. "He's going for the field trip, right? I ran into him the other day and he asked me to be in a group with him and Daniel."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The field trip was an astronomy-themed excursion out of town for the students in their grade in the first week of summer, to a space museum and a couple nights of stargazing. It was definitely to Max’s interest, but he had neither the money nor the permission from his dad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He probably will be,” Max said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’ll be cool,” Lando mused. “I’ll see him there, then. Are you sure you don’t want to go? I can get my parents to talk to your dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max shook his head. He was sure his dad would say no, anyway, because he refused to spend any more money on Max than was legally required.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that it’s no trouble to me at all, right?” Lando asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Max whispered. “I...yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you, buddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only until after their last period ended did Charles catch Max at the front gate as he was walking out with Lando, having forgotten about the hidden words below the sleeve of his jumper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max!” he called from behind them, and Max heard his footsteps thumping heavily as he scurried up to them. “Oh, hey, Lando!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando seemed to remember the coffee surprise at the same time Max did, because he gave Charles a wave, then said, “I’m gonna head home, guys. Happy summer! See you on Thursday, Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna go for a walk in town?” Charles asked Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max couldn’t help his smile then, because he knew what was coming, but would never find it in his heart to ruin it for Charles. “Sure,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t even try being discreet about it. He led Max straight to the coffee shop without even disguising their walk as any degree of random. Max had to pretend to be surprised when Charles pulled the door open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought we were taking a walk,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look of absolute delight on Charles’s face told Max he had made the right choice to act dumb. “Thought we could have a nice coffee. The coffee here is really good. My treat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max knew how good the coffee was. It was the coffee place he’d dragged Lando to when he was following Charles. He had saved quite some money from all the times Charles had gotten lunch for him, so he said, “I have money today, I can get my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I wanted to give you a treat. To celebrate the end of the school year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, maybe next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles looked pleased enough at that suggestion, so they got their coffees and sat down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you excited for the field trip?” Charles asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles stopped stirring his latte. “Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be allowed. And I won’t have the money, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But do you want to go?” Charles asked, eyes eager. “It’ll be fun, I think. I heard from the seniors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles seemed to sense that Max was upset about it, so he thought for a while before he said, “What if I could find a way for you to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to pay for this, Charles. It’s way too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles clinked his teaspoon on the edge of Max’s cup. “I just wanna hang out with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of those exact words said back to Max in return made Max smile. “It’s okay. It’s too late anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if I find a way, you’ll try, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max shrugged. “Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles clinked his cup against Max’s this time. “Don’t disappear over summer, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded. Summer had never really been a good time of the year for Max, but this was his first summer since rediscovering Charles, and Max thought that it might just be a little different.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charles did end up finding a way for Max to get a shot at joining the field trip, and it was pretty impressive, if Max said so himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came up to Max’s door together with Lando the Monday right after, holding one of the parent consent forms and a little booklet for the field trip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max stood with them on the porch because his father wasn’t at work that day and was doing some work in the study. He took the form and booklet that Charles was practically shoving into his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked for extra financial aid for you. I didn’t tell the headmaster anything besides that you can’t get the money, but he said if you can get this form in ASAP you can go on the trip for half off the normal financial aid price,” Charles explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t afford it,” Max said. Even if it was quarter price.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lando and I spoke to our parents. We can help you pay and you can pay us back anytime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We want to,” Lando chimed in. “I know how much you’d want to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just...I already owe you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter. You need it more than us,” Charles said as Lando nodded in agreement. “We can go with you to ask your dad. Do you think that’d help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max didn’t really think so, but Charles was so eager he was practically already halfway through the door, so Max felt like he had no choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He told his dad that it was for free, instead of half off. His dad was probably intimidated by Charles and Lando just standing in the doorway of his study with vague threatening looks on their faces, because the only resistance he showed was to take an extremely long time to read the form before signing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles and Lando then personally ushered Max to school to hand in the form. Since it was only three days before the trip started on Thursday, he was also given a quick briefing and allocated into the group Charles, Lando, and Daniel were in, upon the former two’s incessant pestering of the admin staff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so happy you’re coming with us,” Charles said as he skipped excitedly alongside Max on the way back home. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Max said to the both of them. “I...I really didn’t think it was gonna happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank him,” Lando jabbed a thumb in Charles’s direction. “I only found out this morning when he texted me to ask my parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles beamed at him then, and he looked like a really happy little puppy, and Max just couldn’t take his eyes off him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They dropped Charles off first, as usual. Lando and Max made the remaining trek home silently, until Max was crossing the little portion of sidewalk between their houses, and Lando called, “Hey, Max.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max turned briefly. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you, once he gets to know you, he’ll love you. And he does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made Max smile, but that smile disappeared as soon as he stepped into the house and saw his father standing in the hallway waiting for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You thought you were being real smart, using your friends against me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max felt the walls closing in on him. He couldn’t get to his room without trying to get past his father. He couldn’t get </span>
  <em>
    <span>anywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the house without trying to get past his father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a step forward, and his father matched it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just for some pointless field trip? Is it so important? So important that you need to disrespect me this way? You think you have so much power over me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max knew then that there was nothing else he could do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt the blows in his mind, hard and familiar, before he felt them physically, as if he’d already subconsciously memorised their nuances. The back of his father’s hand and the front. The heel of his foot as Max fell to the ground. Max’s head crunched against the ground as a hard punch was blown across his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max just closed his eyes and rode it out. It wasn’t the worst he’d ever endured. He’d survive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he could think about was how he was so thankful that he hadn’t told Charles they were soulmates, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so thankful</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for he didn’t want his father to ruin Charles like he’d ruined Max over the years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon enough his dad got tired of him, and left him rolling in his own tears and misery on the hallway floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max stared up at the water-stained ceiling, wondering when he’d be able to escape.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max only left the house two days later, and only because his father left a list of groceries and the exact amount of money required for them on the kitchen table, telling Max that he was to go get them or face his wrath when he came back from work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The big bruise on the side of his face was beginning to take colour, so Max pulled a cap over his head and trudged along to the grocery store. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max!” Lando called from his bedroom window. “What are you up to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Groceries,” Max called back, trying to hide his big purple bruise from Lando.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you packed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max shook his head, and he didn’t really want to stay chatting for too long, so he waved at Lando before starting to walk again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to your face?” Lando asked. Max didn’t reply. “Max!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It must’ve perturbed Lando enough, because when Max got home with two bags of groceries, he was waiting on the front porch with Charles in tow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to your face?” Lando asked again, even though the answer was already obvious. The two of them followed Max inside as Max placed the bags on the kitchen table and started unloading them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max,” Lando said in a warning tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max sighed. “It’s nothing major. It’ll heal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He hit you again?” Lando asked. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’ll –” he said, then stopped as if he didn’t know how to continue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando didn’t swear much, but when he did, he could be really terrifying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wasn’t too happy that he couldn’t say no because you guys were there,” Max said softly. He stopped with his back to the table, facing Charles and Lando. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max,” Charles whispered, hand hovering over Max’s face while Lando just stood by him, looking absolutely furious. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ll make it for the field trip.” Max tried his best to swallow his tears. “I’m sorry. I know it was a lot of trouble for you to find a place for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to worry about that,” Charles said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just come along,” Lando added. “We’ll take care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t, or you won’t?” Lando asked, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he was so annoying sometimes, but Max knew no one in the world knew him better than Lando. “Max, you know you’re gonna have so much fun and you’re gonna learn so much. You want to go. It’s our last summer in high school, next year we’ll all be preparing to go to uni. Our last chance to have fun together. We’ll be with you. We promise. We’re in the same group, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to go, and besides – he knew it would massively piss his father off if he went anyway, because he’d already signed the permission slip and couldn’t turn back, and that in itself was a big win, almost big enough to risk what would await him after he came home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can go, yeah?” Max hung his head. “I should go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded eagerly. “Of course. You’re gonna get out of here one day, Max. And we’re gonna be right behind you when you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gotta be ready when that day comes,” Lando said. “You gotta run whenever you get the chance. No matter how short the escape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max sighed. He wiped the tears off his face, wincing when he accidentally stabbed his bruise. “I’ll go,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Charles and Lando looked absolutely pleased at that. “C’mon, let’s fix you up,” Charles said. “Then we’ll help you pack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max absolutely could not tolerate anyone touching him, so the two of them only watched as Max put more anti-inflammation cream on his bruises. Then they sat on his bed watching him pick out clothes to take on their five-day trip and pack them into a duffel bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can sleep over at my place tonight if you want,” Lando offered. “You know the drill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max knew. He’d sometimes sneak out his window and into Lando’s when he felt unsafe in his own home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then my dad can give the both of us a ride to school tomorrow morning with all our things,” Lando added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded. “Just...maybe leave your window unlocked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando waved it off. “You know it always is for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you excited for tomorrow?” Charles asked, more to Max than to Lando. He still looked a bit sad when his eyes fell on the big bruise on Max’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max shrugged. “I guess I am. Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was a hundred percent ready to give Max a hug right then, if Lando hadn’t dragged him back by the collar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them appeared to have already packed, so they spent the rest of the day in their little circle of three, Max listening as Charles and Lando chatted shit just to keep him smiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max needn’t have worried about anyone asking about the bruise, now fading from its disgusting purple to an equally disgusting deep green, because the moment they gathered near the buses that were going to take them out of town, Lando announced that Max had walked into a door over the last weekend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t the most glamorous thing to have people think about him, but Max would take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire grade was split into a few groups rotating about the places they were visiting and stops they were making. Their group headed to the city for their first night, to visit the space museum. Max had a room in the student hostel with two bunk beds to share with Charles, Lando, and Daniel; he ended up on one of the bottom bunks, below Lando. Charles was across the room in the other bottom bunk, reading the brochure for the museum visit the next day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max just watched him, sitting in a little corner of his bed, too lazy to get out of it and hence reading the brochure under a small slice of light that filtered through the bedframe, and he thought about how he had never loved anyone this much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a fulfilling day at the museum they had another night in the hostel, learning about telescopes and constellations in preparation for the next few nights. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn't leave Max's side, as he'd promised. Lando wouldn't have, either, if he had been less concerned about leaving Max alone with his soulmate. He ended up hanging out with Daniel more than anyone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the next part of the trip, they headed across the city and to the outskirts of it to camp under the stars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s group set up their tents in a small meadow in the middle of a forest. They stayed as the same subgroup of four for their tent, and while Lando and Daniel headed to the campfire the rest of the group were having on the first night, Charles stayed behind and helped Max set up his sleeping bag right in the corner so he wouldn’t touch anyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have mine next to yours?” he asked. “I’ll try not to touch you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made Max smile. “Yeah, okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try not to snore tonight,” Charles added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t snore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just know. Lando would’ve said something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s too nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sleeping bags were set up nicely with a gap between them by the time their argument ended, with no viable conclusion. They went outside thinking of joining the campfire, but Max took his sketchbook along, in case the vast dark shadows around him gave him any inspiration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wandered towards the edges of the permitted area, dragging one of the lawn chairs with him. He didn’t notice Charles was following him until he put his chair down and Charles appeared next to him with his own chair and one of the smaller handheld telescopes they were allowed to handle on their own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I hang out with you?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to,” Max said. “You can join the others. I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to,” Charles said, his eyes earnest as they reflected the slight glare of the campfire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Max let him sit down. He got out his pencil and started idly shading a fresh page of his sketchbook, the darkness aiding him instead of impeding him. Charles played around with the telescope, noting down some constellations he saw and occasionally showing some of them to Max. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you get into art?” he eventually asked, softly. Max turned to him, and he was swinging his feet against the grass, making soft rustling noises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's just a nice way to escape," Max said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. He gazed silently at the silhouettes of the dark trees against the starry sky. Thinking their conversation had ended, Max returned to his sketch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little while later, Charles whispered, "My soulmate's an amazing artist."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max almost choked in surprise. He turned to Charles again and Charles was leaning back in his chair, squinting into the telescope, which was pointed right up above him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah?" Max managed to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles put down the telescope and nodded. "I used to get these really nice flowers on my skin. And really beautiful, intricate patterns. I loved them. I took them as little gifts from my soulmate to me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's nice," Max smiled. He hadn't imagined it would make him so happy that Charles liked his little skin drawings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They've stopped, though." Charles absentmindedly ran his fingers over his arm. "I don't know why. Maybe they got busy. I hope they're fine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max thought about how he'd gone long-sleeved full-time now for a couple of months, the clothes working to both cover the bruises he had and avoid showing Charles that they had matching writings on their arms, and had stopped drawing to cover his bruises because he didn't need to with the sleeves. He hadn't thought that Charles would notice the drawings had stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sure they're okay," he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hope so."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max put his sketchbook and pencil down. Charles had a wistful look in his eyes, which shimmered a little under the diamonds of the sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know how I always write down what I have to do or places I have to be?" he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mhm. Yeah, because you forget them?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles's mouth hooked upwards in a small smile. "I think I've gotten a lot better at remembering things, and at being organised, since I started that. I just think that some part of me wants to keep writing where I'll be because I'm waiting for my soulmate to come and look for me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max felt his hands start to shake then. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I did look for you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wanted to say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm right here. I am right here, Charles. But I'm not good for you. You're perfect. I won't let anybody ruin you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"But there's been nothing, so far," Charles continued, oblivious. "I guess...you know, I guess it's fine. It's okay. It's probably one of those 'one day they will' kinda things. Or maybe they've looked for me, but we're in different places and they can't find me. So I'll just wait. I hope they're okay. I miss their drawings."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you mad at them?" Max asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles shook his head. "I just miss them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was. He was so innocent and so kind, and he had such a big heart, and Max. Max just wanted to come clean about it, but he knew. He knew that Charles didn't deserve all the chaos that came with Max. He was already part of it now, not really by Max's choice, but if he were to be part of it as Max's soulmate – he would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>ruined, </span>
  </em>
  <span>absolutely ruined by Max's father, and Max just wanted to protect Charles. If he had to love Charles silently forever, then he would. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Max whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles turned his smile to Max, and how clueless he was, it was becoming so endearing to Max. "It's alright. I'm fine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat quietly until the crowd by the campfire started to dwindle, neither of them wanting to make a move nor get up to get a blanket even though it was getting cold. Charles started to shiver a little, but Max was quite comfortable under his now-signature sweater. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max would have shared his sweater if the thought of all the bruises he would reveal underneath hadn't stopped him. But after watching Charles fidget and curl up on himself in a bid to keep warm, he took off his sweater and draped it over Charles's shoulders without any more hesitation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Aren't you cold?" Charles asked. Max shook his head, but Charles still eyed him for a moment. "Your arms…" he said, gesturing at the brown spots decorating Max's arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's fine. Most people have gone to sleep anyway."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was finally convinced then, and pulled the sweater more tightly around himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When everyone had gone back to their tents, they moved closer to the main area, where the bigger telescopes were mounted. They'd both paid a lot of attention to all the tutorials earlier about aiming the telescope and finding constellations, so they spent the rest of the night toggling the telescope they had and pointing out different star groups to each other. As time passed, Max couldn't even feel the sharp breeze against his bruise-lined arms any longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night really was the most productive one thus far with regards to the purpose of their trip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando and Daniel were already asleep when they finally got back to the tent. Charles placed Max's sweater on his duffel bag and then settled comfortably in his sleeping bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Night," he whispered, then promptly fell asleep, curled up on his side so he wouldn't be touching Max. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max just watched him for a little while, mesmerised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about how Charles missed his old drawings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max took out a pen from his bag and started drawing on his arm, and once he started, he couldn't stop – especially when he looked over at Charles and saw the lines appearing on his arm just as Max was drawing them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Max was tired enough to stop, he had drawn an entire garden on his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell asleep smiling, the tip of his nose almost close enough to land in Charles's hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, Max woke up to Charles tugging on his sleeve desperately trying to get him to wake up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Max!" he was almost yelling. "Max, look!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max pried his eyes open and saw Charles flashing his arm in Max's face, making Max instinctively push his own arm deeper into his sleeping bag, since he had forgotten to put long sleeves on yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They're back!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max smiled. "That's great, Charles."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They're beautiful," Charles said softly, gazing adoringly at the flowers and leaves, then pressing his arm to his face. "I love them so much."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just the sight of it made Max happier than he thought he would ever be capable of feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw Lando give him a sleepy raise of the eyebrows from the other end of the tent. He gave Lando a nod, and Lando gave him a thumbs up disguised as a stretch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles spent the rest of the day running his hand over the drawings, and if Max concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel Charles's soft touch on his skin – and it surprised him that it wasn't a feeling he was disgusted by.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It certainly was something else, sleeping in the meadow under the circle of stars, framed by the jagged treetops. But it wasn't the only thing that made Max reluctant to go home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bus ride home was a few hours long, and while almost everyone else was dozing off, Max sat looking out the window and thinking about what sort of horrors awaited him at home. Charles was next to him, asleep, occasionally waking himself up with the effort not to let his head fall on Max's shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max had forgotten how therapeutic it was to doodle on his own skin, so he idly took a pen to it, decorating the rest of his arm and his thigh as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took Charles's excited reaction when he awoke as a little parting gift before they split for summer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father showed no signs of fury when Max got home. Max was relieved at first, but afterwards only fretted that it was a bad omen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, the worst storms usually came without any warning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when his father agreed to let him take a job at the bookstore for the summer – the two of them never went anywhere on holiday, anyway – Max really started to have mixed feelings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was glad to have a reason to leave the suffocating walls of the house, though; the bookstore wasn't the brightest or biggest space, but it was cosy and warm and Max loved losing himself in the shelves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles went on holiday with his family, as did Lando. Max really only had a phone so his dad could know where he was at any one time, but the two of them texted him on it occasionally, which was really nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max gave Charles at least one little drawing a day, the image of Charles getting all excited enough to spur him on. Now that he knew how happy it made Charles, he couldn't just stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles came back in the second half of summer looking tanned and rested and with little trinkets for Max from wherever he’d been, and Max didn’t think he had ever been so happy to see anyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were taking their leaving examinations in the third quarter of the school year, so when no one needed him, Max usually spent his time studying behind the bookstore counter. When Charles came back, he would sit in one of the deepest corners of the bookstore with his science textbook and study for hours at a go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Max found him, he would greet him with the biggest smile and pat the space next to him so Max would sit down with his book. Charles was taking an extra film studies subject for his exams, and Max enjoyed watching him study for that. It certainly was something new to Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max had been preliminarily signed up for the art exam, but he anticipated having to pay for it himself, so this bookstore gig came at the right time. Even if he still had to ask his dad for money, at least it probably wouldn’t anger him too much if it wasn’t the full amount.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles caught him doing his math for the money once; at the end of summer, Max theoretically had enough to pay for it by himself, but given the fact that his dad had stopped giving him money since he started earning his own, it really was all up in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you should do it,” Charles said. “The art exam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know yet if I’ll have the money,” Max said, then continued before Charles could cut him off, “Don’t say you’ll help me. It’s expensive and I already owe you so much money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles clamped his mouth shut, then opened it again only to say, “Fine. But I still think you should do it. I’m thinking of majoring in film in uni, so I can be an art director or producer or something, you know? Maybe if you do art, we’ll end up in the same uni. Wouldn’t that be cool?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would,” Max agreed. “Yeah, I’ll...I’ll talk to my dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s nose turned up in disgust at that suggestion, and it really amused Max how unfiltered both Charles and Lando were about their dislike for Max’s dad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max continued doing his sums, counting himself lucky that he was into art, and not math.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their exam study group consisted of the same four: Max, Charles, Lando, and Daniel. They were all strong in different areas; Lando was a science whiz, Daniel was into languages, and Max and Charles were more into the humanities, so they could all help each other out. Besides, Max didn’t think he’d ever had so much fun studying until he started with these three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They would alternate between the coffee shop, library, and their houses – except Max’s, of course – and in his last year of secondary school, Max was delighted that he’d found what could be friends for life. He’d always known Lando would be, of course, because they’d been friends and neighbours since they were children, but Charles and Daniel really were...something else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took all of Max’s courage to stay out late those times, and all the strength in his body to not look straight at his dad when he went home and he was waiting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They rarely spoke, and Max still hadn’t told him about the art exam. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he’d rather have this weird little cold war with his dad or just have his dad be outright angry with him again. Max knew he was saving it up. When he was going to explode, Max didn’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles would walk all the way back with Max and Lando sometimes, too engrossed in the topic they were discussing to let it be cut off when they reached his house. Max thought maybe one of those times, when his dad saw him happy with his friends, his ‘weapons’ against him, would be his dad’s breaking point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it wouldn’t come, and all it did was give Max more and more courage. To stay out later. To sometimes have them over at his house, even if it meant they had a shorter time to study.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s mom cooked some tomato basil soup for Max for lunch one time, and Max had it while poring over his math textbook because he heard there’d be a pop quiz in class. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll meet us at the coffee place later?” Charles asked. He was clicking a pen like he was ready to write something down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Max said. “I have to settle some stuff in the art room, but I’ll go right after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Charles said distractedly. Max realised he was writing down his hourly schedule on his arm, the topics he planned to study laid out in several lines up his forearm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should get a notebook for that,” Max suggested, before returning to his math book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was usually mindful about stopping himself from touching Max at any time, so when he suddenly reached over and forcefully grabbed Max’s wrist to yank it towards himself, Max was shocked beyond words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so shocked that he didn’t register what was happening at first – he didn’t register that Charles could see his forearm under his oversized t-shirt with sleeves that only ran to below the elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max,” Charles whispered, appearing as appalled as Max was. He compared the writing on Max’s arm with that on his own, and then as if he wasn’t convinced enough they were the same, smudged some of the ink on his own arm and watched as it did the same on Max’s. “It’s you. Max, it’s you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max felt sick to the stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was you all along?” Charles looked thoroughly confused as he sat back in his chair, his arm retracting from Max’s, like he just couldn’t stand being so close. He gazed at Max with tears shimmering in the corners of his eyes. His voice broke as he continued, “And you didn’t tell me? You just sat and listened to me talk about my soulmate, and all this while it was you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I –” Max started; Charles gave him time to explain this time, didn’t cut him off, but Max suddenly couldn’t find the words. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want to know why,” Charles whispered. “Please just tell me why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to…” Max gulped, the sight of Charles crying making him want to do the same. “I don’t want you to live the same chaos I live every day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you think that’s my choice?” Charles clutched at his chest with a hand, and Max suspected that it wasn’t just for effect, that it was really him grasping at his heart. “It’s my choice. It isn’t yours to take away from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just know that I’m going to ruin you. I’m going to ruin you and you don’t deserve that, you’re perfect, Charles. You’re perfect, you have a perfect life, and I’m not going to ruin it for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that. I don’t need you to say that.” Charles ran a hand through his hair, then sighed, his shoulders heaving in a deep sob. "The drawings. You drew over your bruises. It makes so much sense now. It makes so much fucking sense and I didn't see it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max had never heard him swear before. He was the gentlest, politest person Max knew. So it...it scared Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max, I just – I thought that I could trust you. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusted</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. I told you everything, and now I feel like I don’t know you at all, that I’ve been so stupid, and – Max. I can’t do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As suddenly as this had all happened, Charles stood up and left, and Max cried into his half-finished tomato basil soup for the rest of lunch period.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was radio silence from Charles for the next few weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No calls, no texts, no lunches, no study group meetups. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No writings on his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Charles had gotten that notebook after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Max had written the words on his forearm, where Charles used to write his appointments, hoping Charles would see it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He must have, but he didn’t respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max felt for Daniel and Lando, being stuck in the middle and not wishing to take any sides. But they seemed to be handling it well. Lando had lunch and classes with Max, and even Daniel, whom Max hadn’t even really been that close to except to ask him some questions about literature, made an effort to ask Max to join them for separate study sessions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max didn’t go, not because he didn't feel comfortable around the two of them, but because he simply couldn’t focus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t stop crying, for one, thinking about how utterly disappointed in him Charles had looked. Thinking about how he’d betrayed Charles’s trust, how he’d taken the decision away from Charles. He hadn’t seen it that way when he’d first thought of going to find Charles. He knew why Charles was angry, but at the same time…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max just had so much to say to him, so many things he wished Charles could understand, and he couldn’t even talk to Charles if he’d wanted to. He didn’t know where to start. He didn’t know where anything started and anything ended any longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he could think of was that now that Charles knew, he’d been given the choice again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To stay, or to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chose to leave, so maybe Max had been right from the start to not let him know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max sat on the kerb across from Charles’s house, watching the half-closed curtain in his bedroom window. He was there every day, and every day he wanted to knock on the door and ask for Charles, to plead for Charles to understand, but his lack of courage stopped him every time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d already cried so much it felt like his chest had closed its wings and gone to sleep forever, but still the tears didn’t stop coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The words on his arm glared back at him, without any response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew the three of them were having their study group at Charles’s house that day. Neither Daniel nor Lando had invited Max, for one, and Max had seen them heading out of town towards the neighbourhood earlier that day after school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max pushed his head into his knees, wishing that this was all a dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard footsteps stop next to him, then the grass rustle as the person sat down. It definitely wasn’t Charles, because Charles wouldn’t come near Max if his life depended on it, and also Max would recognise Charles’s footsteps even in the crowded school hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Daniel’s voice sounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max pushed his head further into his legs, embarrassed he was caught being creepy about Charles again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Daniel asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, Charles is as heartbroken as you are?” Daniel said. “I don’t...I’m not saying this to make you feel bad. It’s just that this means a lot to him. He’s always happy when he talks about his soulmate, and he’s always excited when the drawings appear on his skin. I’ve known him since we were seven. And he hasn’t stopped reacting the same way to it. When you stopped drawing, he was so sad. And to know that you were here all along, and you didn’t think to tell him, it just...I think it just broke him, in some way. I think in some way he thinks that you don’t want him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I do,” Max sobbed. “I do. It’s not that I don’t want him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Daniel said softly. “Look, I only know a little bit about your...situation. But I know it can’t be easy. And I’m proud of you for coming this far, we are all proud of you. I just...I hope that you guys figure it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max did, too. "Does he...know that I'm here?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daniel hesitated before replying, as if he didn't want to hurt Max any more. "Yeah."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can you tell him that I'm sorry?" Max sobbed. "And that I miss him very much, and I never meant to hurt him?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will." Daniel slung an arm over Max's shoulders. "Pull yourself together, okay? I know it's not for a few months but we have some exams' butts to kick."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded, shrinking further into himself. "Sorry, can you...could you not touch me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, sorry." Daniel pulled his arm back. "I forgot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's alright."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want me to sit with you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max couldn't help but smile at the innocence of that question. "Don't worry about me," he said. "Go back and study."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You sure you'll be okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded. Daniel gave him a little wave in lieu of a hug, then disappeared back into Charles's house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max watched the familiar silhouette of Charles, with his hair sticking out everywhere, appear in the front window a few minutes later. He stood for a while, looking right at Max, then vanished without any other action. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the sun started to disappear behind Charles's house, Max got up and started walking home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Telling Daniel he'd be okay hadn't been a lie at that point in time, but by the time he got home, Max knew it would all change. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lights were already on, so his father had gotten home earlier than him. Max snuck past him in the living room and had made it halfway up the stairs when he heard, “Where’ve you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Studying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’ve you been?” he asked again, like he didn’t believe Max. When Max didn’t reply, he continued, “Have you been outside that boy’s house again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max had no clue how he knew, but he decided to lie anyway. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father was standing in front of him in a flash. “You’re lying. Who is he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Who is he?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Why are you by his house every day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s my friend from school.” All Max had ever wanted to do was protect Charles, and now even that was slipping out of his hands in front of his very own eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think just because you got yourself a job and some friends, that you’re all that? Don’t forget that I pay your bills, and I feed you, and I brought you up. Nothing you ever do will change the fact that you owe me for all of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max didn’t remember one day where he didn’t feel like he owed something to everyone. To the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what to say next, but his father took his silence as a sign of rebellion, and backhanded Max across the face, his knuckles cutting open the skin on Max’s cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max cried himself to sleep that night, knowing the tears would sting the wounds on his face but too exhausted to even feel it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It turned out to only be the first day of the worst week of Max’s life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The storm had come, finally, just like Max knew it would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He skipped school the day after, not knowing what to do to hide the bruising and cuts on his face. He hid in his closet until his father left for work, but was caught in the middle of his depression nap when his father came back from work in the middle of the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was left on the floor in a bruised, battered mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It just got worse every day, and Max couldn’t even imagine stepping out of the house, so the vicious cycle started. He would skip school, get beaten for missing school, and then miss school again. The exams were the last thing on Max’s mind by then. Lando did ask about him over the phone before Max got it confiscated by his dad, and he only lied that he wasn't feeling very well and would skip school. He didn’t even bother hiding in the closet to avoid his dad. He let the blows rain down on him, wishing that his father would just kill him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And in those days, cooped up only with his scars and bruises to accompany his mind, with no phone and no friends, Max truly felt that he was alone in this world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The belt came out at the end of the week; Max had experienced the thick leather on his skin several times before, but this time, with it coming at the end of an entire week that already left Max’s skin raw – Max was pretty sure he would be dead at the end of the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hid in the laundry room for as long as he could, but couldn’t escape it. The hard material lashed across his face and Max felt immediate pain and he felt the immediate warmth of blood dripping down his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clawed his way out under his father’s arm and escaped to the living room, though in his haze the footsteps following him were still deafening. They quickened when Max got close to the front door, wanting to just run. Run forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if heaven had sent an angel to help Max out, there was a knock at the door just as Max stood a few steps away from it, confronted by his father and the almighty belt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max lunged at it before his father could catch him, and – </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles stood on the other side, hands clasped in front of him, a nervous look on his face that morphed into one of horror when he saw Max. “Max, I –” he paused to gasp. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles,” Max pleaded. “Charles. I think he’s going to kill me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles glanced behind Max, where Max knew his father was still standing, breathing down his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he grabbed Max’s wrist and dragged him out of the house, pulling the door shut behind Max and then fleeing with him down the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max didn’t even remember when was the last time he ate, so he stumbled along behind Charles, his legs giving way every three steps. The world whirled around him in a blur of concrete and grass, his entire body was aching, he was still shaking from the image of his dad hunting him down, and all of that coupled with the feeling of Charles’s fingers curled around his wrist, his skin on Max’s skin – nausea overcame Max, and he had to rip himself out of Charles’s grasp to vomit into a drain cover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles hesitated for a moment, then crouched next to him. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, sobbing. “I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why were you looking for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t seen you at lunch this week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max hadn’t realised Charles still noticed whether he was at lunch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should go,” Max whispered, standing up. He blacked out for a moment as all the blood rushed to his feet, then started walking when he recovered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In all honesty, he was just embarrassed that Charles saw him this way. He missed Charles with all his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to talk to Charles, but he felt the shame eat at him from the inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max,” Charles called after him, then jogged to catch up. “Max, stop. Where will you go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” Max started to cry again, and he hated it. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max.” Charles was almost begging now. “We have to get you somewhere safe. I’ll take you to the hospital. Let’s go to the hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to,” Max sobbed. “Please, I don’t want to. Just leave me alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could almost hear how loudly the cogs were whirring in Charles’s head as he tried to figure out a way to stop Max without touching him and making him vomit again. He eventually reached for the edge of Max’s t-shirt and tugged at it so hard it almost tore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just come with me,” he whispered. “Please. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded, in that moment just...completely overcome by the deepest sadness and despair. Charles told him to grab on to the end of his shirt, which Max did, twisting the fabric between his fingers. He followed Charles to the pharmacy at the edge of town, a five minutes walk away, the last thing anyone saw before leaving the town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sat him down on a parking kerb in the small parking lot behind the building and told him to stay put. And Max didn’t have any more strength to move a single muscle, so he sat there, hugging his legs to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles reappeared a couple of minutes later with a big bag of supplies. He sat on the ground directly opposite Max, instead of on the kerb next to him, and started unloading some bandages, a few tubes of antiseptic cream, and a big pack of wet wipes. Max started to take them from him to clean off his own face, but Charles pulled them out of his reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you?” he whispered. His eyes were sullen when Max met them, like Max had suddenly transferred the entire weight of his world to Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max hung his head, the look in Charles’s eyes too much for him to handle. He leaned backwards, slightly away from Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t hurt you.” Charles’s voice was thick now, like he’d begun to cry again. “I promise. I will never hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max felt himself nodding then, completely against his will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The big gash on his left cheek stung like crazy when Charles pressed a wet napkin to it. The napkin came away soaked in a bright red, and Max heard Charles’s breath get caught in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took an entire pack of wet napkins before they stopped coming away stained red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles moved on to the other parts of Max’s face, his old bruises and his old scratches, and then to the fresh belt marks on Max's arms. Then he gently wiped the rest of Max’s face, all of Max’s tears and sweat and dried vomit, all the while crying quietly. He paused only to wipe his own face with the back of his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna touch your face again,” he said as he opened the antiseptic cream and squeezed a little dollop of it onto a cotton bud. “But I won’t hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded again, figuring that he’d probably feel better about being touched if he knew he was going to get touched beforehand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s touch was so soft, so gentle, that Max knew instantly that he could always trust him. Even though the cream stung in a way that reached Max’s bones, Max knew that he could trust Charles when he said he wouldn’t hurt him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it wasn’t just that Max wanted to protect Charles from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was also that Max subconsciously put his guard up against everybody in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he was beginning to realise he’d been wrong, because Charles hadn’t chosen to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d chosen Max. He’d chosen to come back for Max, despite knowing everything that would come along with loving Max. He must have been just as scared as Max was, but he came back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t deserve you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not up to you,” Charles whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just –” Max shrugged. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles shook his head. “I get it now. I get why you did it. I went to look for you to tell you that. I’m sorry that I got so mad. I should’ve listened to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I – I’m sorry. Just...about everything that happened today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max, I…” Charles sighed, hanging his head like he had restarted his crying yet again. “Where are you gonna go? I can’t let you be by yourself. Will you go look for your mom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She lives in the city. She has her own family, her own life. I won’t bother her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t go back,” Charles sobbed. “Please, you can’t go back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll figure it out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come home with me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max stared at him. He couldn't imagine inflicting this on Charles alone, and now Charles wanted to drag his whole family into it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Charles…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come home with me," he said again. "Come home with me, my soulmate."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't." Max choked on the words. He couldn't do that to Charles. He could look for his mom, be a little thick-skinned and stay with her in the city. But he'd be far away from Charles, and he didn't want that either. "I can't do that to you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My parents would love you. They'd love you to bits. You can stay a while, get some rest, and if you don't like it, we'll... we'll figure something else out. We'll leave for uni in a few months, anyway. We'll figure it out. Promise."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max started to cry again then, and heard Charles gave a little exasperated chuckle when his tears fell into the wound he was trying to dress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay." Max couldn't think of any other choice. "Just until this blows over."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can't go back, Max." Charles's voice was suddenly desperate. He grabbed hold of the collar of Max's shirt, like he was trying to shake some sense into Max. His hold slowly moved up until he was cupping Max's jaw, and Max. Max didn't even feel it on his skin, he was suddenly so mesmerised by the look of sheer determination in Charles's eyes. "You can't go back there. There won't be a 'until this blows over.' It will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>blow over, Max, don't you get it? You're never going back. Look what he did to you. Look what he did to us. You can't go back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max closed his eyes. Charles's grip only tightened. "What am I going to do?" he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come home with me," Charles said, now with a longer pause between each word as if to drive his point across.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max sighed. Charles seemed to take it as a yes, for his grip softened, and he gently ran his thumb along the skin below Max's gash, where the gauze ended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strangely, Max wasn't afraid of this touch any longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you?” Charles asked in a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was simultaneously hit by two thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, God, his soulmate, the love of his life, wanted to kiss him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Charles wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>kiss him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max peered at him, pleading for him to understand. He had never kissed anyone. He had never been kissed. He didn’t even remember the last time he had let anyone touch him the way he had let Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t hurt you,” Charles said, like he knew Max would take those four words like a magic spell. "Will you please let me kiss you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Have you ever kissed anyone?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, that made Max's heart melt completely. And he was so scared, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded at Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hear his heart throbbing, his blood rushing through his ears, as Charles leaned forward. And then, suddenly, it all dropped to a low murmur as Charles's lips landed on his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were soft from Charles's crying, and they tasted like nothing at all except a little salt from his tears, and they felt like little feathers on Max's lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every wound on Max’s body, every crack in his soul, felt instantly healed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't hear, couldn't see, couldn't think of anything else but this beautiful boy with the soft lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he didn't know what to do, so he kept his hands to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles must've sensed his apprehension, because he quickly pulled back, taking his hands off Max's face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I won't touch you anymore," he said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max knew he wasn't the most straightforward person to be around, but Charles. Charles really was trying his best, and Max really had never loved anyone else more in this world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I liked it," Max whispered, embarrassed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled, his gaze travelling all over Max's face. "Me, too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you for coming to save me today. You saved my life."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles's smile grew. "You're my soulmate," he said, his voice soft, like he was still in disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't have to do all of this, you know? You don't have to do it just because of that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know. I want to. I've wanted to from the start, couldn't you tell?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles really had been helping Max of his own will from the very first second they'd met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don't even have a guitar?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles burst into the lightest, brightest giggles, and Max fell even more in love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The picks are by my bed. They remind me of you, so I always just play with them," Max continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles gazed at him adoringly for a few moments, then seemed to force himself to snap out of it. He packed all the first aid things back into the bag and gathered all the rubbish in a smaller bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's go home, Max."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took the long route home so they wouldn’t have to pass Max’s house again. It took them through the sparse forest that lined the town, a distance from the houses by the edge. Charles didn’t attempt to touch Max again, or hold his hand, like he suspected Max had reached his touching quota for the day. Instead, he just swung the bag lightly as he walked next to Max. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The autumn leaves were beginning to fall to the ground, and the sun was setting between the bare trees, casting long golden slivers over the forest floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the light, nestled among the greyest of trees, Charles looked like an angel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An angel that was sent just for Max, to save him, to love him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An angel who turned around and smiled at Max and said, “You’re safe now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An angel leading Max to somewhere he could feel worthy of love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Max would gladly follow him to the ends of the earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Oh, love, don't let me go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here is the second part! Thank you all for your support, do leave a comment if you liked this chapter as well :) You can also find me on tumblr at olivertorres. Enjoy &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Every time Charles woke up in the morning and saw Max sleeping on the floor next to him, he could almost cry thinking about how lucky he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max slept on a mattress on the ground next to Charles's bed, not wanting to squeeze into Charles's small single bed and be uncomfortable trying to avoid touching him. Charles had wanted to swap places with him, but Max would never let him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still saw himself as a guest even though Charles and his family treated him as their own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles watched his shoulders heave with his soft, regular breathing, and he was just so thankful that Max was...alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hugged his pillow to himself, resting his cheek on it so he could look at Max. He had his back to Charles, his legs tucked into himself. His hair was getting long and was messily splayed on his pillow. Charles saw the little daisies he'd drawn for Charles on his arm the previous day peeking out from under the blanket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes in the mornings or even in the middle of the night, Max would wake up with a start after having nightmares. Charles didn’t know about what, but he had a pretty good idea. He would try not to wake Charles, but Charles would get up anyway, because the sound of Max crying would wake him, and the sight of Max cowering at one end of his mattress would break his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Max wouldn’t let Charles hold him on those days – he wouldn’t want to be touched </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> on those days, so all Charles could do was sit on the floor next to him until he stopped crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That morning seemed to be one of the more normal ones. Max woke calmly just a couple of minutes before Charles had to get out of bed to go to school. He turned instinctively to look for Charles, his features softening when he saw Charles in bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles reached out a hand, and Max stared warily at it for a few moments as if unsure what to do with it. Then he slowly raised his hand and gently grasped it, making Charles smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Morning," he whispered, and Max returned his smile. "Do you want to come to school today?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max took his hand back and tucked it under the pillow. He peered up at Charles with pleading eyes, like he was begging Charles to understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn't been to school in about a month now; at first it was only supposed to be until the wound on his face stopped spilling blood everywhere, but it just dragged on because Max seemed so devoid of energy to do anything besides sleep and paint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando had collected homework for Max for a while, but Charles decided to switch classes so he could take notes for Max and not trouble Lando for everything. Changing all his classes in the very last semester of secondary school sure wasn't ideal, because they had different teachers for some of them, and completely new classmates for Charles, but at least Lando was in all those classes save for math.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay," Charles said softly when Max didn't say anything in reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Max whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that.” Charles reached down to smoothen Max’s hair, but upon seeing Max recoil a little before he’d even touched him, remembered he should’ve asked first. He put his hand down on his bed. “Max. It’s all going to be fine. Everything’s going to be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded, though he looked doubtful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had never felt more admiration for anything or anyone than he did for Max’s courage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max had set up the smallest corner of his own near the window of Charles’s room, opposite his bed. Charles had tried sneaking into Max’s room through the window to get some of his things, but Lando, being Lando, had decided that the easier solution was to saunter up Max’s driveway with some boxes and demand to collect some of Max’s things for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s father really couldn’t say or do anything, now that Max’s mom, and the police, and lawyers, and a restraining order were involved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The photos they took of Max’s wounds and his verbal account for the restraining order application had completely broken Max a month earlier, and he refused to be spoken to or touched, or to eat a single bite of food, for three straight days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s mother was the loveliest lady, although Charles understood why Max was reluctant to bother her and her family in the city. She was hugely apologetic for not dealing with this earlier, and was giving Max a regular allowance now, which Charles knew improved Max’s feelings of inadequacy. She’d even let Charles’s parents take over as temporary guardians for Max until he turned eighteen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little shoebox Max had that held all of the things Charles had ever given him – the box of guitar picks, the trinkets from Charles’s summer, little post-it notes that Charles wrote for him while they were studying – had pride of place in the corner of Charles’s windowsill. Max had told Lando that he didn’t care if he wasn’t able to get anything else from his room, that all he needed was this little box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max hung out in the corner during school hours, idly painting on his easel that Lando had brought over. Sometimes after school, Charles would study with him. Lando came over sometimes to hang out, and Daniel occasionally accompanied him. But most times, Max just spent the whole day staring into space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles wasn’t going to try to fix him, but...he just wanted Max to not be broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max had breakfast that day, which came as a relief. He still looked tired, although he’d slept a whole eight hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles hugged him before leaving, with permission, and for a moment Max looked a little more awake, like a blooming flower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The school day passed uneventfully. It was boring without Max around, but it comforted Charles to know that he was slowly healing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came back from school that day to see Max sleeping in his bed, his face pressed deep into Charles's pillow like he loved Charles's scent, and it took every fibre in Charles's body to stop himself from hugging Max again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confirmation of the restraining order came just before Christmas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s family had a big Christmas tree in their living room, which Max had helped decorate on one of his better days. They placed the copy of the restraining order in an envelope, wrapped it up in some Christmas wrapping paper, and placed it under the tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t think he would ever forget Max’s face when he opened it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he started crying first of all, but he looked so </span>
  <em>
    <span>relieved</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Charles knew he struggled with the mixed feelings he held towards his dad on the best of days, so he understood why Max had suddenly burst into tears. After all, he had grown up that way, and he hadn’t known anything else until Charles had brought him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he whispered, more to the floor than to anyone around him. “Thank you all so much, I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to thank us,” papa said. “We’re just so glad you got out of there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max smiled then, and turned to Charles. “Can I hug you?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made Charles laugh, how </span>
  <em>
    <span>innocent</span>
  </em>
  <span> Max was. “You never have to ask,” he said, stretching his arms out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max's hugs were usually hesitant, like he wasn't sure what to do with his arms, but this time it felt like he was hugging Charles with all the strength in his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of that day was spent watching a Christmas movie on TV. Even though Max was curled up on himself on the other end of the two-seater armchair from Charles, in the evening when Charles asked him for another hug, Max showed no hesitation at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Exam season rolled around in spring, and though Max was more focused all throughout winter and spring break, Charles knew he was nowhere near where he wanted to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What if I fail?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max very rarely started a conversation with Charles at all, so when he asked Charles that across the dining table while they studied, it hit Charles hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You won't fail. You've worked so hard."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I won't be able to afford uni," Max said softly. "If none of the scholarships come through."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They'll come through." Charles gestured at the stack of Max's artwork, stacked on the other end of the table. "Your works are amazing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe I should take a gap year, find a job."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't decide on that until the scholarships come back. And you might be able to get financial aid."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles, I –” Max paused to swallow nervously, then continued shyly, “Will we be apart? I don’t...I don’t want to be apart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. They planned to apply to the same universities, anyway, though they were interested in majoring in different things. “We’ll try not to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was blinking hard, like just the thought of them being apart was enough to break him again. It was endearing, but at the same time Charles hated seeing him like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like being like this,” Max whispered, and Charles realised for the first time that day how tired he looked, his overgrown hair sweaty and strewn all over his forehead, his fingernails picking each other apart. Charles didn’t remember ever seeing him so jumpy before, and he wasn’t sure if it was just because he hadn’t noticed until after the incident, or Max had really changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles dragged his chair closer to him. “Max,” he said. “I’m gonna hold your face, okay? Is that okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded, and Charles gently cupped his cheeks, his fingers grazing the thicker, more fibrous parts of his skin that were Max’s various sized scars. Max only twitched a little when Charles's fingertip nudged the big gash from the belt that was still scabbing over for the umpteenth time. And despite everything he’d been through, despite all the scars he bore, Max was still so soft to the touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everything will be okay," Charles whispered. "I promised you that everything will be okay, and it will. I'll make sure of that. I'll be with you, always. I won't leave you. I don't want to leave you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't have to do this." Max was in tears now, blinking slowly at Charles until his tears rolled onto the tips of Charles's thumbs. "I don't need you to do all of this for me just because I'm your soulmate."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want to," Charles said. "I told you, I want to. I have since the start. Nothing has changed just because you're my soulmate."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I’m so broken, that you were given a broken soulmate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles really was beginning to understand why Max was so reluctant to look for him at the start. Why Max was so reluctant to let Charles into his life. It wasn’t because Max didn’t like him, or because Max wanted to take the choice away from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was because Max loved him too much, and it was because Max knew that they would end up… like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Broken by Max's father, broken by the way Max's father had broken him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Max." Charles ran his thumbs along the dark circles beneath Max's eyes, wiping off his tears in the process. "I don't care. I love you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max's delicate blue eyes disappeared under his eyelids. They had shied around the words a handful of times, never saying them aloud but knowing it from the things they did for each other. Charles had to admit he hadn't said them aloud because he was afraid of how Max would react, but he had always wanted Max to know. He really wanted nothing more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Me, too," Max finally breathed. "Me, too, I…I love you. Charles. I love you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles gently nudged his nose with his thumb, and the smile Max gave, it just melted Charles completely. He pushed Max's hair out of his eyes and Max opened them again, their corners crinkling even more when he met Charles's gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm gonna kiss you now, that okay?" Charles whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissing was never really Max's thing, it wasn't the way he showed his affection, and in their time together they had only ever done it a couple of times, but when he shivered as their lips met, Charles – Charles got it. He really just got it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now, just...just breathe with me, okay?" Charles mouthed against his lips. "Let's just forget everything and breathe for a while."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max closed his eyes again, pulling his head back from Charles's. He followed Charles's deep breaths until his shoulders had stopped shaking and his tears had dried.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's going to be okay," Charles said as Max pressed their heads together again. "We're going to be okay. Always. I promise."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max seemed convinced then, and pulled out of Charles's grasp. They both moved back to their books, although Max's hand slowly crept closer until he was shyly holding on to Charles's as the two of them continued flipping their books one-handed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles couldn't wipe the smile off his face for the rest of the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Exam season passed just as quickly as it arrived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles would’ve liked to say they got through it unscathed, but as the pens dropped after his final paper, he was really too exhausted to tell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That last paper was the extra film studies exam, which Charles actually had really been looking forward to. In the end he could only be relieved that it was over, and he left the exam hall feeling some sort of equanimity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s art exam pieces were due on that same day, so Charles headed to the art room to look for him. He’d seen Max’s pieces multiple times while he was working on them and also when they’d made copies for his scholarship applications, and every time he saw them he was even more impressed, and he was even prouder of what Max was still able to achieve even though he was struggling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was pacing nervously outside the art room, holding his folder of artwork. He only stopped when Charles bumped his shoulder with his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a star,” Charles told him, and his features morphed into the biggest, softest smile. “Come on. Let’s show them how amazing you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s shoulders seemed to relax once he passed his folder to the art teacher. He met Charles outside the room again with an even bigger smile, and Charles would be damned if he ever felt as much love in his heart again as he did in that moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had a celebratory dinner with Charles’s parents, and Max even managed a few jokes and conversation starters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles really couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It truly astonished him how quickly he had fallen for Max, and so deeply that he couldn’t imagine himself ever stopping. Max had just been a friend from the start, and then someone who needed help, and suddenly he was thrusted into Charles’s arms as his soulmate, and since then there had been no return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dinner was a nice start to their series of university open weekends, where papa would drive them around the country to a handful of potential schools. There really only was one that Charles and Max both had their eye on, and thus only one school that they would both seriously consider, but it never hurt to look at a couple more choices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their top choice was an old university halfway across the country from their town, renowned for their arts education. Max was particularly excited when they got there, and spent the whole tour holding Charles’s hand without any discomfort. He spoke excitedly to papa as well, genuinely interested in what he had to say about the school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanna go here,” Max said to Charles at the end of the day. “I hope they’ll have us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles wasn’t sure it was so much the university than it was the fact that it was so far away from their old town that Max’s father would probably never find him there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll have us,” Charles said. “They’ll miss out if they reject us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max grinned at him, and Charles’s heart started beating even more quickly, even though the way Max’s skin stretched around his scab still tore him apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kiss?” he whispered, even though he knew he never needed to ask Charles for permission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles kissed him, and he pulled away looking as happy as Charles had ever seen him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles knew he would never leave Max even at his worst, but deep down he really wished they would enjoy many more of Max’s good days, because he couldn’t get enough of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Max was stuck in his rut, the days seemed to drag on twice as long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the days seemed to fly by when Charles could actually see the long belt mark on Max’s face healing a bit more every day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were apart for a few days around their graduation ceremony because Max’s mom came down and he stayed with her in the little town inn. She greeted him with the biggest, warmest hug, and Charles swore he saw all of Max’s pieces float back together. He knew that Max had never been close to his mom, that the last time he'd seen her he’d only been a child, but for Max to know that he had a parent who cared for him regardless, it was – it was equally important to Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was included in their little mother-son outings that weekend, and he was beyond glad, even if it was only because he got to see Max smile so hard his cheeks strained under the pressure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando tagged along too, having invited himself once he heard that Max was having a good time. Max was so happy to see him, and it was almost unreal how beautiful he was that day when he smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max almost missed out on summer holidays with the family because he refused to let anyone spend any more money on him, but Charles managed to drag him along anyway. They spent a couple of relaxing weeks in their beach house and the nearby town, and Charles thought the extra vitamin D must have done well for Max, for he looked glowing and radiant by the end of vacation. The rosy blush that hung on his cheeks and the freckles that lined his nose bridge were Charles’s favourite things in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their exam results came back near the end of summer, and then it was just sitting around waiting for the universities to send the coveted acceptance packages. Charles did about as well as he could’ve expected, and Max seemed accepting of his own results, although Charles could tell he was trying his hardest to be quiet about not being up to par. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Acceptance letters came and went, and though none of them were from their first choice university in the city yet, and only a couple of them offered scholarships, Charles was glad to see that Max had some acceptances of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their big envelopes from the old city university arrived two weeks later on the same day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max's face was pale as he held it in his hands, waiting for Charles to open his first. Upon much persuasion he finally agreed to open it at the same time as Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles received a full scholarship to study film. Max received a partial scholarship to study art. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max had been silent all day, but after reading the letter, Charles felt a blanket of doom slowly descend on Max. He read the letter over and over again, like he was trying to find a loophole, or he thought maybe he had missed out on something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he put the letter and the welcome booklet back into the envelope and sat on one end of the sofa, hugging his legs to himself. Papa asked if he wanted to go out and have another celebratory dinner, but he only shook his head and told them to go ahead, turning only to give Charles the proudest, most loving glance he could afford. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles skipped the dinner and sat next to Max even though he knew Max wasn't going to say a word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can I hug you?" he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max shook his head, and Charles accepted it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you wanna look for apartments?" he asked instead. "We can get a nice place together, far away from here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max shook his head again, though this time he said, "I can't afford to go to uni."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There will be ways," Charles said. "My parents saved up some money for me which can be used for your fees. Your mom will help, I'm sure. And there might be financial aid options. If you don't want any of our help, you can always find a job in the city. I'm sure there will be many ways, Max."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was quiet again, though his shoulders shook a little as he started to cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't give up on yourself, please." Charles tried not to let his voice waver, though Max's tears surely worked their best against that. "Please. I believe in you. So, so much. I'll never give up on you. Please don't give up on yourself."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max pushed his face into his knees like he wanted Charles to stop looking at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles just didn't want him to feel like he wasn't enough. That he didn't do well enough. That he wasn't ever going to be enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he was. Max didn't have the most ordinary life but he was amazing and beautiful and talented and he would always be enough. He wasn't just enough. He was more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles just sat next to him, hoping that if he thought about it loudly enough, Max would understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drew little hearts on his arm for Max throughout the day, one every fifteen minutes or so, and whenever Max saw them he would stop sniffling and smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles started looking at apartments on his laptop when it turned dark outside; they were to leave for the city in just a few weeks, after all. He caught Max turning and sneaking glances at his screen, which made </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> smile, though he didn't want to disturb Max's alone time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max eventually shuffled closer to him and said, "I'm very, very proud of you, Charles."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled at him. "I'm very proud of you, too," he whispered. "I know it wasn't easy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max reached over and ran a thumb over Charles's cheek, like he was baptising Charles. Charles didn't move to touch him, knowing that just because he was touching Charles didn't mean he wanted to be touched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand returned to his lap a few moments later. Then he turned to the laptop, watching quietly as Charles scrolled through the apartment listings, occasionally stopping Charles when he saw one he liked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And no matter how small the win was, Charles would always grasp it with both hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he sat with the love of his life for the rest of the night, planning their future together, silently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were to leave for the city at the end of August, with enough time for them to settle in and for Max to find a suitable job. He wasn’t able to get financial aid with the scholarship and wasn’t willing to accept any help from Charles’s parents or his mom outside his usual allowance unless he couldn’t cope himself with rent and tuition fees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had suggested they move into the dorms instead to save money, but Max rejected that idea too, like he knew Charles preferred an apartment and wasn't going to stop him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was particularly mellow on the night before they left. He had so few things, they fit into a single box which they'd sent ahead with three of Charles’s, and he was only left with a backpack for their drive there. He lay in his mattress staring up at the ceiling as Charles packed up the rest of his things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles climbed into bed just after midnight, exhausted purely by the thought of having to wake up early for the next morning's drive. "Night, Max," he whispered as he pulled the covers over himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't have the energy to register that Max didn't respond, but a few moments later felt his bed dip as Max sat on the edge of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles opened his eyes and saw Max gazing hesitantly at him, one hand near Charles's and the other nervously clutching at his own shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can I sleep with you?" he asked in the softest whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles could </span>
  <em>
    <span>cry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Max had never asked that before, and on the last night before their new start together…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles lifted the covers and Max climbed in, still keeping a safe distance between them both. He placed his head on the edge of Charles's pillow and smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you excited?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little bit,” Charles smiled back at him. “You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded. Charles thought that was all he was going to get, but then Max placed his hand on Charles’s cheek, and it was warm and soft, his fingertips grazing Charles’s cheekbone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I hold your hand?” Charles asked, though he knew by now that most times, Max would say yes. It just...didn’t feel respectful to Max if Charles stopped asking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded again, and removed his hand from Charles’s cheek so Charles could hold it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he closed his eyes and fell right asleep, his features softening until they were the most peaceful Charles had seen them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Charles watched his shoulders move up and down in the way he was beginning to get used to, he couldn't help but start to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles truly didn't need Max to let him hold his hand, or hug him, or kiss him. He truly didn't need anything from Max except for him to let Charles love him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only cried because he just wanted the universe to give Max a break, for Max to get to feel some sort of happy, and now – it looked like it was finally beginning to happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn't need Max to let him touch him, and he would understand if Max lived the rest of his life feeling uncomfortable about touch, but when Max did, it was just...a good sign. Charles took all those times as good signs. He took Max sleeping in the same bed as him as a milestone for Max’s recovery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The anticipation of papa driving them to the city the next morning was intimidating and exhausting on its own, but Charles found all of that vanishing as he watched Max, suddenly undaunted by whatever could come for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They managed to meet Lando one last time before they left, with Lando having gotten a spot to study chemistry in the university in the nearest city, where his soulmate lived. Charles knew that Max, in particular, was really happy for him to finally get to meet her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came to Charles's house to meet them as they loaded up the car, and Charles didn't know why but they hadn't seen him in </span>
  <em>
    <span>ages </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he was a little bigger and tanner now, and he looked as excited about the prospect of the city as Max seemed to be for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You could maybe hug him now, if you want," Charles told him as they stood watching Max figure out how to load the rest of Charles’s boxes into the boot and the backseat so they’d still have space to sit. “You just have to ask first, so he knows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Lando asked excitedly. Charles realised how much he’d missed him – how much he was going to miss him, for the next four years. “Oh, I’m going to hug him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles watched with a smile as Lando scurried up to Max and stood next to him until he finished tetrising the boxes. “Max,” he said. “Can I hug you please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max hesitated for a moment, glancing at Charles before shrugging at Lando. “Sure,” he said, smiling and opening his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando gave the softest squeal as he wrapped Max in a big hug, and Charles couldn’t help but laugh. “I love you so much, buddy,” he told Max. “Don’t disappear, okay? You two don’t disappear on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s smile grew, though his hands were still hesitant on Lando’s back. “Lando, thank you for everything,” he whispered. “Thank you. You’ve been here since...I don’t know, I don’t even remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since before we could walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. And I’m...I’ll miss you so much, do you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll miss you too, Max.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for everything. You’ve done so much for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I’ve loved every second of it. And Charles better take care of you, or I’m marching over there myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Charles said, making the both of them laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll take care of me.” Max sounded very sure, which touched Charles to hear. “Lando, I hope you have a really good time with your girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando laughed then, and he sounded so happy he was almost wheezing. “I will. You two have fun too. Thanks for letting me hug you, Max.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles got a hug from him, too, and only then did it hit him that he really was going to university now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drive to the city was about four hours, and Max spent most of it sleeping against the window. Charles wasn’t as good an artist as Max </span>
  <em>
    <span>by far</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he got out a pen and doodled a comic on his arm of the two of them moving into their new apartment for Max to see when he woke up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s reaction was pure gold, the smile on his face so big and bright as he turned to Charles, his hair falling into his eyes in the process. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's so cute," he said, examining it closely, running his fingers over the reflected ink. Charles could almost feel his fingers on his skin. "I love it. It's so pretty."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just...he was so handsome, and Charles knew he was given to him for a reason, that they were put into this world to be together because they were good for each other, but Charles truly didn’t understand what made him deserve Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The apartment they got was a studio on the top floor of an eight-storey complex. The rent was affordable as it was outside the main city centre, but still only a ten-minute walk to campus. It came furnished and with a single queen bed near the window, though they had the option of changing up whatever they liked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brick walls of the apartment and the big gridded windows were what attracted Charles and Max, along with the open space that wouldn’t make Max feel like the walls were closing in on him at any one time. Their boxes were already there, stacked up by the front door. Max sat down on the sofa by the window as Charles inspected the rest of the apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to get another bed, maybe?” he asked as he stopped next to Max after completing his inspection. “There’s just one. We could get two singles."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max looked at him, then at the bed, and back at him again. "I think...that it's alright."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Charles sat next to him, on the soft grey sofa. “I mean, you’ve always slept alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t always have to give in to me, Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles knew he'd been fussing over Max over the past year or so, probably way more than he needed to, but. "I just want you to be comfortable."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max gave a little sigh. "Maybe we can try this one out first."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went for a quick meal and supermarket run with papa and mom before they had to make the same drive back home. The sun had almost set by the time Max and Charles said goodbye to them and retreated into their warm new home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max had been quiet again throughout the day, the mild excitement he’d shown the previous night and that morning when he’d seen Charles’s drawing now having disappeared. Charles microwaved some popcorn for them as they sat by the TV, exploring the wider variety of channels than they had back at home. Max barely ate any, and he wasn’t even paying attention to the TV, or unpacking, or playing on the new laptop papa had bought for him for school. He just sat there, fiddling with the end of his shirt until the fabric was almost raw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only when they were in bed at the end of the day that Max spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was curled up facing Charles and Charles was on his back, looking up at the wooden support beams on the ceiling. There was about a thigh’s width between them, but Max’s hand was creeping into the space. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it sick that I still think about him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles turned to him. His eyes were closed, but Charles could see tears at the edge of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still think about...it. About what happened. All the years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You miss it?” Charles asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max shook his head. “It’s just that...I spent my whole life in that town, with him, and now I’m away. And I’m...I’m happy that I got away, but at the same time I just wish I could show off to him that I can have my own life, and I just still think of our town as home, and him being there, it’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Charles whispered. “It’s alright. You’re right, you spent your whole life there, your whole life the way it was. So of course it’s natural to still think about it. It’s not sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max opened his eyes, and they were tinged red and utterly exhausted, even though the two of them had basically done nothing all day. He used them to plead with Charles – Charles didn’t know what for, but he asked Max, “Can I hold you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just my face, please,” Max said softly, but his voice still broke at the end of his sentence as his tears fell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles wiped Max’s cheeks, careful not to agitate his scab, which was healing over again for so many times Charles had lost count. Then he slid his hands firmly around Max’s jaw, under his ears, and Max seemed to keen into his grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to get some help?” Charles asked. “We can go and get you some help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s hard not to think about it,” Charles said. “But it’s over now. You have to remember that. It’s over. The people in your life now, we love you. Me, Arthur, our parents, Lando, Daniel – everyone in your life, we’re here because we love you. So...I’m sorry about this, but your father, he doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve got to remember that. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just keep thinking...why did he hate me so much? What did I do wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t your fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it was his way of loving me. Maybe he just wanted to teach me what’s right and what’s wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max. Max, please don’t say that. You can’t possibly think that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sob wracked Max’s shoulders. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll get you some help, okay? We’ll get someone to help you,” Charles said. It was the first time in all these months, nearly a year, that Max was talking about it outright, and it made sense that it only came when he'd finally made his escape from that town. It was the most horrible type of nostalgia, and not only did it tear Max apart, it was tearing Charles apart, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want any help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max, I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max pulled away then, completely out of Charles’s grasp. He grabbed his pillow and got out of bed, trudging slowly to the sofa. “I don’t want to wake you up when I dream,” he said, his voice barely audible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles lay awake the entire night, paralysed by the sound of Max crying himself to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max had a few choices when it came to job openings – there was a small coffee shop on the other side of campus from their apartment, and a bookstore downtown similar to the one Max had worked at. And to top it all off, the university library had an opening for the checkout desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles went with him to check them all out, telling Max what he thought about each of them since Max didn’t seem to have too much reaction to any of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eventually went for the position at the library, because it paid pretty well for its flexibility and it was close both to their apartment and to their schools on campus. The summer hours were shorter, so Charles usually hung out nearby or wandered the shelves for the three or so hours Max worked his shift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max didn't seem to adapt very well to the city. He was always on edge, always afraid that one too many people would bump into him on the street. Even when the semester started, he kept mostly to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Charles always made sure he was by Max's side every second he could spare; every free hour he had between classes, he was in the art building eavesdropping on one of Max's classes. He would wait for Max to finish his classes and they would have lunch together before Max went to the library. Then he would go home and wait until Max's shift ended so he could look for Max and walk him home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, he would write a part of his schedule on his arm, just like old times, and Max would find him with a smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had a single class together, common to both their majors – an introduction class to costume design and production – and it was Charles's favourite class by far. He had never had a class with Max before, and he loved watching Max work, all the lines on his face contributing to his hardworking frown as he took down notes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Occasionally when they walked past the administrative building, Charles would ask if Max wanted to see the counsellor, and Max would be quiet, but he would let go of Charles's hand like he didn't want Charles to see that he was shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did seem to start taking a liking to cooking, though, which delighted Charles. With what little money he didn't need to save, he dragged Charles to the supermarket, where they picked out ingredients for Max to try and recreate Charles's favourite dishes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It truly hit hard when Charles realised Max had never had the chance to try anything like that before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered what other things Max was actually good in, or interested in, but just never got to try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max really was so talented, Charles wouldn’t even have been surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was in his last class of the day, a lecture on narrative in film, when the words appeared on his forearm in a similar style which he used to write his reminders in, like Max had meant it to look like Charles had written it himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Home 5pm. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was followed by the tiniest heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s cheeks were hurting by the time he reached the apartment, from how big he was smiling. The whole open area was filled with the scent of rosemary and garlic and beef, and Max was in the kitchen doing the dishes, but he turned around when Charles opened the front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's going on?" Charles asked as Max dried his hands and almost bounded over, looking lighter than ever. He had the most delighted smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's our anniversary," he said. "One year ago, we...you came and took me away and you kissed me at the edge of town and I love you so much."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles couldn't help then but to burst into giggles. He leaned in closer to Max and Max got the message, closing the gap himself until their lips met. He tasted like herbs and butter, like he’d been sneaking bits of food throughout the day. His lips were only slightly hesitant, but became braver when Charles cupped the sides of his neck without any resistance. His uncertain hands landed on Charles’s hips, but eventually his arms curled around Charles’s waist to pull him close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Max,” Charles whispered. “And I’m so glad that my soulmate is you, and not anybody else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max smiled, his lips turning against Charles’s before he pulled away and pressed their heads together briefly. He gestured at the two plates of food on the dining table, placed on the same side so they could sit together. “Let’s eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max had cooked a delicious steak with a side salad, and it was still warm and chewy and Charles was absolutely in love. Max seemed to enjoy it as well – he rarely enjoyed anything he made himself, even his own art, so just to see him that way overwhelmed Charles with an indescribable happiness.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d also made a creamy mushroom soup not unlike the ones that Charles’s mom used to make for him for lunch. There was a smokier and more peppery flavour, which Charles loved. He knew Max made it because he wanted Charles to still have a taste of home, and he wanted to make some of Charles’s mom’s dishes for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is better than my mom’s,” he told Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max burst into elated laughter. “No, you’re lying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really love it. You’re an amazing cook, you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s smile wavered. “You don’t have to hype up everything I do all the time, Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not. I’m really not,” Charles said softly. "I really do find it amazing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew Max’s mood fluctuated, and it could change with the snap of a finger, and as much as Charles had learned to anticipate it, it still took him by surprise at times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max quietly scraped at the bottom of his bowl of soup. The spoon clanged against it as he set it down. Max's expression was suddenly one of exhaustion, a contrast to how happy he'd been when Charles had come home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How has school been?" Charles asked, to change the subject. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max smiled, if only briefly. “It’s going okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you keeping up?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's...hard to focus sometimes. Just...all the noise. Maybe when practicals start, it'll be easier. When I can use my hands."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Charles said, holding himself back from saying anything else in case he drove Max further up the wall. He watched Max bring their dirty dishes to the sink and start to wash them, then got up and went to stand next to him. "Max, happy anniversary. Thank you for the dinner, I...really loved it. Really, from my heart."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max finally smiled bigger then, though it didn't look like it reached his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles wondered about all the noise in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished that Max would share some of it with him. Charles would carry all of it, even, without question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They parked themselves in front of the TV that evening, deciding to give themselves a break from work. Max was completely silent throughout, and although he didn't reject Charles's request to hold his hand, he didn't exactly grasp Charles's hand with warmth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their practicals did start a couple of weeks later, and while Max busied himself in the art studio experimenting with different media, Charles’s assignments constituted watching old-timey films and breaking down their screenplay structure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max didn’t seem to get better like he’d promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, if anything, he got </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely spoke to Charles; they were both busier now, and Max spent so much more time in the art building than he did anywhere else that Charles just didn't feel right going over to bother him anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles thought maybe he could see how Max was really doing at school during their costume design class. He seemed focused, but the way his hand shook as he held his pen and the way his leg bounced nervously told Charles otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you alright?" Charles asked this more often than he wanted to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max would nod, but the way his eyes were so wild yet so resigned just...overwhelmed Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't so much feel like Max was pulling away from him, knowing that Max's schedule was changing and so he was in different places from usual. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he did miss Max, and seeing his face light up when he saw Charles in the hallways, and walking home with him through the park, and sitting on the sofa watching him make dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed seeing Max smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles found out Max was at the art museum that Tuesday afternoon when the stamp for re-entry appeared on the back of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max hadn't told him – in fact, Max never seemed to tell Charles where he was going any longer. But Charles had submitted one of his bigger assignments and had some free time that afternoon, and there was a discount for uni students at the museum, so Charles went to find Max. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The museum was like a maze, and Charles got lost in the different themed rooms for a while, forgetting the purpose of his visit. He eventually found Max in a dark room with wine-coloured walls, sitting on a bench in the middle of the space, staring at a large oil painting of a garden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t react when Charles sat down next to him, although Charles saw his eyes dart quickly towards Charles, then back to the front. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The painting, though of flowers, was gloomy, done in cool colours and a dark tone. The flowers were textured, some of them reflecting the spotlight above it. It was beautiful, but Max didn’t seem to so much be observing it than he was just...staring into the space it occupied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was so quiet, Charles could hear the sound of a clock ticking in the distance. The painting was only a regular size, but it seemed to loom over them. Charles wondered if Max thought the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if Max was here just for the fun of it, or if maybe he was looking for some inspiration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered what was Max’s favourite medium to paint with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or Max’s favourite flower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never really been able to tell what Max was thinking at any given time, but more recently it had become almost impossible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They left when the museum was closing, and even then Max seemed reluctant. He was still quiet as they walked home, and only shook his head when Charles asked if he wanted to make dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles got kebabs for the both of them and they sat at the dining table eating them. Max was only midway through his when Charles finished his portion, and decided to wrap it back up and save it for later. Charles guessed saving food for later was an old habit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While the practical component of the costume design course had come and passed, and they both had had a lot of fun completing it, the final was a thousand-word essay that seemed a little worse the more Charles thought about it. He got out his laptop and notes and settled with his feet on the coffee table, and Max joined him a while later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Have you thought about what your topic is gonna be?" Charles asked. Max was staring at his binded book of notes, though his eyes didn't move, and he didn't respond to Charles or seem to hear him. "Max?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max snapped out of it upon hearing his name. "Hmm?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Have you thought about your topic for the essay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max didn’t reply for a while, and instead closed his book and put it aside. “I don’t think I’ll start on it yet,” he eventually said. “I can’t...I can’t really focus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s heart just...sunk. He wished Max would talk to him. He didn’t care about being hurt by it. He just wanted to be a part of Max’s life, and if it meant he went through all the same pain that Max went through every day, then Charles was willing to do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wished that Max would let Charles hold him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max got up and went back to the dining table, where his leftover kebab was placed. He slowly unwrapped it and started chewing on it again, but his eyes looked unable to focus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Charles called, but when there was no reply again, went over to where he was and leaned on the table next to where he was seated. “Max. You’ve been so distant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think that…” Charles sighed. “You should never have just – just tried to go on with life this way, without getting it fixed. It's eating into you, Max. Maybe you were right, maybe you should've gone for that gap year."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm fine, Charles."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Max, why...why don't we go get some help? I think you need some help."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't need help."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd lived all his life the same way and hadn't needed any help. Charles got it. He got the way Max thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that was exactly the reason why he needed help </span>
  <em>
    <span>now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think you do," Charles whispered. "Why won't you ever let anybody help you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why do you always think you know what I need?" Max asked; his voice was calm, which terrified Charles. "Why are you always following me around and doing things for me? I don't need you to tell me what to do, or what to feel, Charles. I don't need you to baby me all the time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles could only watch as Max stood up and brought all his kebab wrappers to the bin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to follow, but what Max had said stopped the thought from even fully forming in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just…" Max's hands shook as he rinsed them with water. "I am my own person, you know?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know," Charles said. "I know that, Max."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then why do you act like you don't?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn't remember Max ever being so vocal about his own thoughts before. It comforted him in some way, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Charles whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max shook his head. “Could you just – could I – I just want to be alone for a moment, is that okay? Just please, please leave me alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles watched as he retreated into the bathroom, sobbing quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to tell himself that it was okay, that Max just needed to take a little break and calm down, and he tried to go back to his essay, but.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he listened closely enough, he could hear Max crying through the bathroom door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he didn’t know why, and he didn’t know how to stop it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he knew was that Max didn’t want to be near him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles stared at his laptop, all the ideas that he’d had in his mind earlier having disappeared, leaving him itching for something to do, something to think about, besides how he’d royally fucked up trying to help Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been so obsessed with what he thought would be good for Max that he’d completely forgotten about what Max wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Charles cared too much. Maybe he suffocated Max with how much he cared. With how much he stuck to Max and followed him around everywhere he went because he so shamelessly thought Max wanted him around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Max was his soulmate and he mattered </span>
  <em>
    <span>the world </span>
  </em>
  <span>to Charles, and Charles couldn’t imagine caring any less.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max came out of the bathroom a while later, and climbed straight into bed without even looking at Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles honestly felt for him, not even being able to escape from Charles because they lived together. It felt...almost prophetic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got into bed with Max at the end of the night, but when he woke up the next morning, he found Max sleeping on the sofa, as if he couldn't even stand being in Charles's proximity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max slept on the sofa every night after that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles couldn’t bear the sight of Max all curled up on himself, the extra blanket wrapped tightly around himself like he got colder through the night. He could only imagine all the aches Max felt in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started staking his claim on the sofa every night before Max could do so, and after a couple of days they settled into their new sleeping positions, Charles on the couch and Max in bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles woke up every morning with a sore back, but when he looked over at the bed and saw Max sprawled diagonally across it, his face pressed into the space Charles used to sleep in, like he just wanted to take in Charles’s scent again – he forgot all of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Max wanted to sleep alone, then Charles would let him sleep alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was home less often, and Charles wondered if he was just busy or if he was avoiding Charles. He didn't really know what to do with himself without Max; the essay assignment seemed pretty lame now that he didn't have Max to discuss it with, and Charles was honestly having some trouble remembering what he used to do when Max wasn't such a big part of his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat at home working on his assignment most days, and it was lonely, but Charles guessed that he would at least try being less heavy-handed with Max. He did call Daniel once, during a minor mental breakdown, seeking some advice. All Daniel could tell Charles was what Charles already knew, but just talking to his childhood friend made Charles feel that at least one part of his life was going right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just...missed Max’s presence, and all the comfort and joy Max always brought him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was home early that afternoon on another Tuesday, wandering around the kitchen area trying and failing to find something to do, when Max’s handwriting appeared on his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m at the aquarium</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A personal message just for Charles, and his first words to Charles in about two weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles made it to the aquarium at breakneck speed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wandered the displays until he found Max tucked into a little corner between two fish tanks that fed out from the main aquarium. He was cross-legged in front of the full-length glass window, watching as the marine life swam about in front of him. The light of the water cast an eerie blue glow over him. He had his sketchbook and a small watercolour palette in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sat down next to him, but received no reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was painting the aquarium in front of him. The open page on his sketchbook was painted in a blue gradient, and he was filling in little details with a small brush: little baby sharks, fish of various colours, stingrays, the likes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles watched him, his brow furrowed in concentration instead of frustration, his hands dancing across the paper – and he fell impossibly more in love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was just so mesmerising when he worked. He was in his own world, immersed in his own inspiration. He seemed relaxed, his fingers moving at their own will, even though Charles was just sitting there watching him. Charles liked to think he gave Max the same sort of comfort Max gave him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max occasionally paused and just gazed ahead, at the flowing water reflecting the underwater lights, and at the schools of small fish that swam by. The lights danced over his face, making him look like an angel. A troubled angel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was done with his painting an hour before the aquarium closed. He tore the page out of his sketchbook and silently placed it on Charles’s lap without looking at Charles, like he was trying to give Charles a gift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went home together, and Max quietly made omelettes for the two of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ate across from each other at the dining table, neither of them saying a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Max climbed into bed and Charles settled along the sofa with his new painting, and they watched each other for the rest of the night, not willing to be the first to fall asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thursdays were Charles’s longest days; not only was his film narrative class the driest thing in the universe, but it also dragged on for longer than it was required. Most times, by the time he left class, the sun had already set.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was already at home when Charles returned from his film narrative class that Thursday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sleeping in bed, head on his own pillow but arms wrapped tightly around Charles’s pillow, which he’d stolen from the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed to be breathing into it, so half of his face was hidden behind it, but the semi-permanent furrow between his eyebrows had smoothened out while he was sleeping, and Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles just wanted to hold him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat down on the bed, careful not to wake Max. He let his hand hover over Max’s shoulder for a while, but just like he’d done so many times before, eventually told himself that he couldn’t do that to Max. Especially when he was asleep and had no sort of awareness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he just watched Max for a while, completely tranquil and comfortable in his own skin, and he tried his hardest not to cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max awoke about thirty minutes later, seeming startled by how suddenly he’d opened his eyes, before they quickly settled on Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles stood up hastily, embarrassed about being caught just watching Max like a creepy stalker. He went over to the kitchen area and found some creamy tomato soup in the pot, still warm, like Max had been saving it for Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitated taking a portion, anyway, thinking maybe Max might be hungry later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles shook his head. It was seriously laughable how overbearing he could be when he noticed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned back to Max; the pillow was out of his arms, back in its usual place on the bed, its usual place before they’d started sleeping separately. Max’s arms were folded at the elbows, his hands clasped gently together. He was looking forlornly over at Charles, as if beckoning him to go closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles obliged, and by the time he stopped next to the bed, Max had withdrawn slightly more into his own half of the bed, like he was inviting Charles into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He climbed cautiously into it, making sure to stay in his own space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max gazed at him, his arms now crossed over his chest too, mirroring Charles. He looked like he was pleading with Charles for something, although Charles didn’t know what. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then slowly, tears started falling from his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Charles grasped a handful of the front of Max’s t-shirt. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to leave me alone anymore,” Max whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t. I won’t leave you alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m – I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to push you away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled, despite it all. “Okay. It’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you just want to help me, I know that.” Max’s shoulders shook slightly as he sniffled. “Charles. I don’t want you to stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t,” Charles said again, his hand automatically moving to hover over Max’s head, but when Max instinctively recoiled further into his pillow, dropped it back to the space between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Max sobbed. “I just...I just feel like I can’t be happy. I’m trying. I really am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that you’re trying.” Charles’s hand crept closer to Max’s, careful not to touch him. When Max cried like that, it always brought Charles back to that day he’d seen Max bleeding from the face; that day he’d had to literally pull Max from the jaws of death at the hands of his father. “I know you’re trying your best every single day. And I’m so proud of you for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just feel like...like I’m not myself. I’m too...I don’t know. I’m too on edge about not being on edge all the time. You know? Charles. I –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Charles whispered. “Okay. You don’t have to explain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate being like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max…” Charles sighed, afraid that he would make Max angry again. “Could we go get some help? I’ll go with you if you don’t want to be alone. Could we? Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was silent for a while then, only sobbing quietly into his pillow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t help you, Max,” Charles said softly. “I’m trying my best. We need – we need someone else. Someone who can really help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just so scared of talking about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be with you. I’ll always be with you. I’m never leaving you, ever." Charles wanted so badly to hold Max's face, to feel Max's soft skin under his fingertips, to remind himself that Max existed. But he knew that he would just agitate Max further if he did. "Max, do you know that you're so, so amazing? You're so amazing, and you're so brave, and I'm in awe of you every second. And I wish I had the courage to face the world the way you do every single day. You really, really amaze me so much and I just always want to be by your side." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max gave a loud sob. He opened his eyes to look at Charles, and they were. They were the saddest blue Charles had ever seen, emphasized by the dimness of the room. “Charles, I’m sorry that I snapped at you,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “It’s okay. You were right. I'm sorry, Max. I just wanted to help, and I was...I tried too hard, and it was suffocating, and I was too much for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t. Charles, you aren’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just –” Charles tried his hardest not to let his voice shake. “I just want you to be okay. And if you can’t be, I...I want you to be okay with not being okay. To be okay with...with being just a little more okay every day, or a little less, because that's part of it. I know it’s not a straight line, you don’t just get better, from A to B, so easily. I know it’s up and down. I've seen it, with you. And I...I’ll just be here for all of it. I promise. I just...it just matters to me that you know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded, closing his eyes again, relieving Charles of the pain in them. “I don’t feel like I deserve all of this,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t feel like I deserve you, either,” Charles said. “But I want you. And I love you. And I only want to love you. I don’t care about what you’ve done or haven’t done to deserve it. I just want to love you, Max.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max gave a little whimper, then a sigh. His hands were clasped together in the space between them, and Charles wanted so badly to hold them, but he resisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you?” he did ask instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max hastily wiped his face with his hands before nodding. His lips were soft when Charles kissed them, and he could still taste the lingering scent of creamy tomato soup like the one that was leftover in the pot. And as much as Max usually resisted kissing, this time it felt like he was giving his absolute all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles missed these lips more than he could scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I love you?” Charles whispered. “Will you let me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max pressed his forehead against Charles’s, like it gave him strength. Tears streaked his cheeks as his shoulders gave a little wobble with his sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I do, right?” Charles asked, fingers fidgeting with the end of Max’s sleeve, afraid to touch Max more than he already was. “You know I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had no doubt. He had </span>
  <em>
    <span>no fucking doubt</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Max might have grown up without love, without knowing how to be loved or how to love, and he might not show it often, or at all – but Charles knew he was giving his all despite all the things that were happening, despite how hard it was. And everything he did, he did because he loved Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was different from any other kind of love Charles had experienced, but it was...so special. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max,” Charles whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I touch your face?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded. Charles placed his palm on Max's cheek, the tips of his fingers running gently over the scar that was beginning to form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked. "How lovely you are?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max smiled, and his dimple formed against Charles's palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, that made Charles start to cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was just so beautiful, and Charles loved him </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he didn't seem to know. And Charles wished with his whole heart that Max would understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't be silly," Max said, his voice still thick with tears. His touch was so gentle as he wiped Charles's cheeks with his thumbs. “You know you’re my favourite, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles,” Max whispered. “I’m sorry. I know...it’s hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t be silly,” Charles chuckled. “It’s hard for you, too. I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you stop crying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eventually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max tucked his arms into his own chest, like a little t-rex. “Talk to me about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles just talked to him about everything random and nothing at all, because he didn’t know where to </span>
  <em>
    <span>start</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tell Max how much he loved him, how to describe all the love his heart could barely hold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Max fell asleep, that was – it was Charles’s favourite part of every night, knowing that Max was peaceful when he was asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next time they walked past the administrative building, Max didn’t resist when Charles pulled him inside to make an appointment with the counsellor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They got Max a one-hour slot for the following week, and Max spent the entire five days until then nervously picking away at his fingernails. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles met him after school and walked with him to the building. He wondered if Max wanted him to go along inside, but the way Max purposefully slowed down his steps and the way he looked like he was about to turn and run away told Charles he probably needed to, or Max wouldn't go in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The counsellor was a nice middle-aged lady who told them to call her Amelia. Her room had an armchair and a long couch arranged at a right angle around a table, and she sat in the armchair as the two of them settled down on the couch, Max in the middle of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So which one of you is Max?" she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max raised his hand slightly like he was still in school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And who's here with you?" Amelia gestured at Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is Charles. My soulmate," Max said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amelia smiled like she was proud of Max for bringing Charles. Proud of Charles for coming with Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max just sat quietly, even though they were all waiting for him to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what you’re here for?” Amelia asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded. “Because I need help. With some...some demons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t…” Max’s voice faded into a whisper. “I don’t dare to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because if I do, then they’ll catch up to me again, and they’ll keep catching up to me and I won’t be able to escape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was silent for a while, so Charles could almost hear the sound of his heart cracking as it landed on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if he finds me again?” Max whispered, this time just to Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not allowed to come near you, remember?” Charles said. “That restraining order applies wherever you go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nervousness in Max’s eyes only faltered the slightest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Charles asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max shook his head. He looked. He looked so small on his end of the sofa. “I just feel like it’s wrong for me to talk about it. It’s...it’s shameful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not here to judge who you were or what you went through, Max,” Amelia said. “We’re only here to help you. You can start off slowly. We have an hour. We’ll use all of it if we need to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can talk about it, yeah?” Max closed his eyes, letting his tears fall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't have to talk about all of it at once, if you're not comfortable," Charles said. Max's hand, and his shoulders – they looked so tempting for Charles to hold, he could almost feel the atoms of his body being pulled towards Max, one by one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know how to talk about my feelings," Max whispered, as if only for Charles to hear, although Charles knew Amelia could hear him too. "Maybe – maybe I'll just say what happened."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Anything you want, Max," Amelia said. “You can just talk to Charles, if that makes you more comfortable. I’ll just be here to listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max took a deep breath, and. And once he'd started, it was like he couldn't stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was almost as heartbroken listening to Max recount all his years at his father’s mercy as Max was as he retold them. He sat in his corner of the sofa, too afraid to go too close to Max, even though all he wanted was to hold Max. Max was crying as he spoke, blubbering his words in barely coherent sentences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles couldn’t imagine living through that even once, not to mention every single day for as long as Max could remember, since his mom had left the family when he was three. He couldn’t imagine the terror Max had to face every day, and accompanying it, the suspense he had to deal with, wondering when would be the next time. It was like he was fighting a war of his own, waiting every day for the next bomb to be dropped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With all the scars decorating his body – his arms, his legs, his abdomen, his back, and his </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful face </span>
  </em>
  <span>– Charles had a harder time believing that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> been a war.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if that’s the only way to love me?” It was the first thing Max asked after he was done recounting. “What if other ways...it’s just so hard to love me, you know? What if that’s the only way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max,” Charles sighed, though his sob made it ragged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean…” Max was speaking more to his feet than to anyone else, and his voice was so quiet they could still hear a pin drop at the far end of the room. “For a long, long time, every time I was touched, I got hurt, you know? Every time someone touched me, it was to hit me. It’s just never been any different. And now every time someone touches me, I keep – I keep thinking the same thing is going to happen. I know Charles won’t hurt me. I know that. But it’s just…” Max shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s normal to feel after what you’ve been through.” Amelie’s voice was only slightly louder than Max’s. “And you have to know that you shouldn’t pressure yourself to overcome it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know Charles...you know, the whole love language thing, right? Charles’s love language is touch. I know it. And...sometimes, I can’t even be touched without wanting to puke. And I just –” Max paused to sigh, and he sounded utterly exhausted. “How am I supposed to let him know I love him if I can’t even touch him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He already knows,” Amelia said. “Yeah? Charles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.” Charles knew Max was trying his best every day. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Max’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>love language. “Do you, Max? Do you know that I love you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded. “But I just – I just don’t believe it. It’s not because of you. It’s because of myself. Charles. I’ve always just wanted to keep you away from me, from my life, because I don’t want it to ruin you the way it ruined me. And now, this past year, you’ve...you dove right in, and I hate that I made you see this, that I made you do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had never heard Max speak so much at one go, even though he’d known Max for almost two years. It comforted him, actually, to know that Max was letting it all out, that he wasn’t going to bottle everything up for Charles’s sake, or for the sake of anybody around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that I want to do it,” Charles whispered. “I would do anything for you, Max. Anything in the world. And I hate that I can’t help you be better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do, Charles, love. You do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max,” Amelia said, her voice gentle and encouraging. “Why did you resist so much the idea of getting help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max sighed again. He picked at the beds of his fingernails, not even seeming to feel any pain when he ripped off a couple of hangnails. Charles just. He just wanted to reach over and grab Max’s hands to make him stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just feel like it doesn't matter,” Max finally said. “My opinion doesn't matter."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Does Charles make you feel this way?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No." The word came out as a sob. "No, Charles is the only person who doesn't make me feel that way. Him and Lando."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who's making you feel that way?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max didn't reply, and Charles already knew the answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They waited for him to say something, but he didn't. He just sat and cried so quietly Charles wouldn't have noticed if not for his trembling hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think you need to listen, Max," Amelia eventually said. "You need to listen to what people are saying. People who matter to you, like Charles and Lando. People you trust to always tell you the truth. Because that's what it'll always be – the truth. Charles cares for you, I can see that. And you know that. Deep down, you know that, and you just have to believe it. You keep pushing people away because you're listening to the one voice, the only voice you had when you were growing up. And no one can blame you for that. But that voice is gone now, and you are free, and you have to form your own opinions of yourself, and you have to understand that you matter to the people in your life. You have to let people help you and let good things happen to you because that's how we move forward." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded then, but didn't look up. "Okay," he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, yeah? You hear me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you have any questions?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max hesitated for a split second, then asked, "I...I deserve this, right? I deserve –" his hand slid across the space between Charles and himself until his fingertips were grazing Charles's. "– Charles."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amelia beamed at Max. "Of course you do. Look, we're not all this lucky. And you are. I know that you aren't used to it, that it might feel suffocating at first, because you're used to a different kind of care. But Charles cares about you and you care about him, and your souls are one and your skins are one. And just stop and remember how magical that is, not whether you deserve it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He thinks that I'm beautiful," Max whispered shyly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And you are." Amelia’s smile had grown even bigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I mean...there's so much of me that isn't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're beautiful to me," Charles said softly. "Every part of you. You don't have to believe me right now, but...just know that I think that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, Charles. For everything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles turned to Amelia. "Could you tell him to stop apologising?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed. "He'll learn. I trust him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you," Max whispered, turning to Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles placed his hand on Max's, still stretched over by Charles's side. Max's reaction to pull his hand away was so quick Charles knew it was instinctive, but after a few moments of thought he decided that a little bit was okay, and just hooked his pinky in Charles's. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know that I'm okay with not touching you, right?" Charles asked. "I know it's something you have to deal with. And I...it's okay for me. Like, you don't have to pressure yourself into doing the whole touching thing, for me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded. "I'm okay. It's...I'm comfortable with what we have. And I want to...to touch you. To learn to let you touch me. You know, there are a few things that I feel like if I can overcome, it's almost like I've successfully escaped...from him? Like, like sort of milestones? And the touching thing is – it's the most attainable, for me. So...yeah."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. "Hey, you know I'm so proud of you, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max gave the softest giggle, and then a sigh, like he was relieved to get everything out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm afraid our time's up," Amelia said. "Max, I'll see you next week? Charles can come, too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you," Max said, in the softest voice. "Thank you so much."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Max. Remember that you have people in your life who love you. One person who doesn't feel that way won't change what these people feel for you. It doesn't make you weak to reach out, and it doesn't make you weak to accept their love. Okay? Will you remember that for me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded, and he seemed to have started crying again, which broke Charles's heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're all very proud of you for coming this far," Amelia added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you," Max said again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You two have a great day, okay?" Amelia smiled. "I'll see you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max seemed lighter as they left the building. He didn't hold Charles's hand; Charles was beginning to realise he couldn't take being touched especially when he was crying for any reason. But he'd stopped dragging his feet, and he told Charles he wanted to make dinner for them when they got home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn't uncomfortable when Charles stood next to him watching him cook the pasta. "Do you want to call Lando later?" Charles asked. "We haven't talked to him in a while."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max smiled. "Yeah. I miss him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando had been Max's pillar of strength since he was a child. Since way before he'd met Charles. And even though Max had never spoken about it, it must've been strange for him to be apart from Lando for such an extended period of time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sat with him as he put Lando on speakerphone, and Lando was exactly the same cheeky, direct character that Charles had come to love. He was so excited to hear from Max, and spent the whole time complaining about how hard chemistry was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles left Max alone with him for a while, just glad that Lando was making him laugh. Max was quiet otherwise, only speaking softly to tell Lando about the apartment he was living in with Charles. Charles watched him from the kitchen, not being able to help the smile on his own face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew it was only Max's first counselling session, and only the very first step of what was probably going to be a long journey, but Charles was just glad that he would get to be by Max's side through all of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max was still excited when he hung up the phone at around half past eight that evening, having exhausted all his minutes on the call. He hopped into bed next to Charles and turned his phone towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Look, it's Lando's soulmate."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles listened to him recount again, this time about what Lando had shared with him. He was lying on his back, his head resting on his arms, and he looked relaxed as he spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles really had never heard him speak as much as he had that day, but...Max's voice was soft as butter, and it was the most calming music to Charles's ears, and Charles couldn't get enough of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he listened, clutching on to every word with all his soul, until Max fell asleep in the best way – with utter exhaustion from his excitement, and not anything else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max had sessions with Amelia once every week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles went with him a couple of times, but after their third session decided that it would probably do Max some good if he had some time alone with Amelia. He did wait outside the room for Max, though, always being washed over with relief when Max greeted him with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They would go home, and Max would call Lando and they would talk for hours, and it became a routine that Max seemed comfortable with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was just happy that he was willing to let people try and help him. That he was brave enough to talk about his feelings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That he thought he mattered enough now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The weather was getting colder, and Max was making a warm chicken stew on that Saturday afternoon a couple of weeks before Christmas. Charles was watching him from the dining table, but found himself gravitating towards Max after a while, just craving being by his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max turned to him when he was done checking the stew, leaning his hip on the counter and giving Charles the most adoring smile. There was a little piece of chopped chive on the corner of his lip from when he’d tasted his stew earlier, and it was the cutest thing Charles had ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached across to wipe it off, but stopped himself before his thumb could touch Max’s cheek as he realised what he was about to do. He met Max’s gaze, and although Max’s smile had faltered a little, he did give Charles a small nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles swept off the little piece of vegetable, then bravely ran his thumb over Max’s bottom lip, spurred on by the lack of any resistance from Max. His lip was soft and plump and rosy and it twitched slightly under Charles’s touch before curling up again as the smile returned to Max’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly leaned in and gently pressed his lips on Charles, and. And it was the first time he had physically initiated a kiss with Charles, ever, and Charles. Charles’s heart just felt so warm, like it was going to burst out of his chest just so it could burrow into Max’s chest to be with his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Charles whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max pulled away then, although Charles caught a hint of reluctance. “I love you, Charles,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so lucky to be your soulmate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little smile that had been hanging on Max’s face grew bigger. His arms still hung awkwardly by his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with them, but he gazed at Charles with so much love in his eyes that Charles found it hard to pay attention to anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I talked to Amelia about being uneasy that I’m not constantly on edge anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Charles smiled. “And what did she say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She said I should try stopping my subconscious from wanting to be on edge. And that maybe I should let you guide me. Let you...the way you care for me, all the time, just let you do it. Let myself trust that everything is safe when you’re around. So that way, I wouldn't want to start running.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So kind of like swimming in my love?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s giggles were Charles’s absolute favourite sound in the universe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll take a while, I think,” he said, then giggled again. "You know, for me to learn to swim?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you still feel like you need to run, yeah?” Charles tugged on the edge of Max’s sleeve in lieu of a squeeze of the arm. “Yeah. I get that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just so funny how I’ve dreamt of running all my life, and now that I’ve made it out, I’m still running. It’s like I’ll never stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care if you’ll never stop,” Charles said. “I’ll run with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With your stamina? Fat hope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles threw a cherry tomato at him and it bounced right off his forehead, and honestly, the sound of Max’s giggles could beat any soothing melody in the world, but Charles cared more about the fact that Max didn't flinch when it was thrown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re too hard on yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max turned so quickly, Charles was afraid he'd given himself whiplash. He stared at Charles like he’d just made a wildly inaccurate claim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You barely have any time for yourself between assignments and studying and the library. You need to take care of yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like I can just give up on one thing,” Max pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles followed him as he walked around the apartment, collecting stray paintbrushes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know how I mentioned that my parents had a fund for me for uni?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max turned and stared at him again. “Yeah?” he said, suspicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s now being used for rent instead. So if you want...they can pay for your rent. Or your tuition fees. If you don’t want it for both, you can choose either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The money’s just sitting there, you know? You might as well use it, then you don’t have to take so many shifts at the library and you can come home early and sit with your lonely soulmate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max cracked a smile at that. “I can’t do that, Charles,” he said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Charles asked. “You’re not taking anything from me, or from them. It’s saved up and not being used.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could invest it, or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. In you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s stubborn exterior just completely melted away then, and he chuckled shyly as he put his brushes in a paint-stained mug. “I’m not worth it. It’s your parents’ money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re their son, too.” Charles played lazily with the tips of Max’s brushes, only stopping when Max flicked his hand away. “Legally, they’re your guardians. But even besides that, they really treat you as their son. Max. You could still work at the library and get your own money. It just...it would free up a lot of your headspace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max sighed, like he knew he had no way of talking himself out of this. “I’ll do the math first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles hovered around him as he did the math, and he wasn't sure if Max had decided that the math was satisfactory or if he was just annoyed enough by Charles to give in to him, but in the end Max decided he would let Charles’s parents pay for the remaining third of his tuition fees, and Charles legitimately felt like it was the best day of his life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max became slightly more comfortable with touch as the days passed, though his inclination still varied with his mood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On his best days, he liked to hold on to Charles’s arm as they sat together, and decorate it with the prettiest little flowers. He held his own arm out as well, as if he enjoyed seeing the flowers appear on it as he was drawing them on Charles’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles wasn’t going to complain, but he did ask Max once, “You know you can draw on your own arm and it’ll also appear on mine, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Max said distractedly. “But that reminds me that you’re my soulmate. This reminds me that I’m yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was so in love with Max’s mind, he couldn’t even find the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if Max could feel his pulse going crazy at his wrist, where Max’s thumb was pressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max seemed so concentrated on his painting that he didn’t notice, so Charles asked, “What’s your favourite flower?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marigolds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re your birth flower. They represent love and passion and the sun, and you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max rarely spoke his thoughts, and Charles was beginning to feel a little thankful for that, because when he did, he just made Charles want to melt into a disgusting mess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realised Max was painting marigolds on his arm; he watched them appear on Max’s own arm as he filled them in with orange paint, and it really was quite mesmerising.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was in one of the most boring film history classes he’d ever had to date when the words appeared on the back of his left hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, followed by the most intricate drawing of a little flower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If anyone wondered why Charles had suddenly burst into tears in the middle of class, they didn’t care to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It reminded Charles of when they were back at home, in the sunset months of secondary school, when they would hunker down to study at the dining table and Max would draw him random little things on his arm when Charles was too engrossed in his books, for him to be surprised by when he looked away to catch a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was unbelievable how far they’d come since then.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I miss you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Charles wrote below Max’s words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max replied with a small heart, which he proceeded to colour in, probably because he was just as bored as Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was waiting outside the lecture hall for Charles when the lecture was done, probably because Charles had inadvertently written down the venue earlier since he kept forgetting even though it was already the last lecture of the semester. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I cancelled my shift at the library," he told Charles. "So I can go home and sit with my lonely soulmate."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles laughed. "Well, your soulmate must be one lucky boy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hope he thinks so."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He does."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max's smile was boyish when Charles turned to him, and the blush that hung on his cheeks made Charles's heart sing with joy. He shyly stuffed his hands in his pockets as they walked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finals week was approaching them quickly, so Charles was glad that Max was beginning to get back into studying. He hadn’t been able to get an extension on their costume design essay, but Charles helped him with an outline and they eventually got something submitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They settled on the couch with their books when they got home, Max putting on a hoodie that buried him in fabric and made him look so comfortable. Charles was glad, but it was distracting, and Charles spent more time looking at him than at his books. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles got into bed first at night, exhausted from how hard Max made his heart beat. Max climbed in a while later with a sigh, his head snug in his hood. His eyes held a curious glint as they travelled over Charles’s face and shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want to…" Max paused, as if the word was in a foreign language. He slid slightly closer to Charles. "Cuddle?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles burst into loud, embarrassing giggles. "You're very cute," he said. "Have I told you that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmm." Max looked bewildered at Charles's reaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We can cuddle," Charles whispered. "If you're sure."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded. He plastered himself awkwardly in Charles's arms, stiff as a stick. When Charles wrapped him up in a loose hug, his breath caught in his throat, and he grasped a fistful of Charles’s shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this okay?” Max’s hair smelled so strongly of the ocean, it made Charles unable to speak above a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded, and the scent flooded Charles’s entire being. He still fidgeted a little bit, though, and after briefly pressing his nose into Charles’s shoulder, pulled out of Charles’s arms altogether.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I – maybe...maybe that’s alright. Maybe next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. “Okay. Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I liked it,” Max whispered, and Charles was immediately transported back to their very first kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take your time.” Charles dipped his fingers softly into Max’s silky golden hair, and Max didn’t shrink. Instead, he seemed to bask in it, tilting his head so Charles’s fingers could move freely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max fell asleep that night looking more peaceful than he’d ever looked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charles thought the stress of finals would make Max more distant, but it actually did the opposite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max particularly liked leaning on Charles while they studied, as if Charles was more comfortable than any armchair he could find. Sometimes, when Charles was too engrossed in some papers, he would burrow his way under Charles’s arm to seek his attention, like a little puppy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles just loved that he got to act so childishly. That he allowed himself to act so childishly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he loved that Max allowed him to be his pillar of support throughout finals week – their first in university, and truly a sort of mayhem that Charles had never experienced himself. He was exhausted out of his mind, but knew he had to push on to keep his scholarship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, it wasn’t like he had any other choice, since Max looked so utterly adorable with his paint-crusted hands cradling his books and his head buried in them that Charles couldn’t help but join in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s favourite mornings were the ones where Max would instinctively find his way to Charles in the middle of the night, and the both of them would wake up with their limbs intertwined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Max had been hesitant towards cuddling in the first place, but Max when he was asleep told a whole different story. It was as if that first night of brief cuddling had triggered Max’s subconscious liking for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That morning after their last final, Charles woke up with Max hugging him from behind as he breathed into the back of Charles’s head. His left arm was resting on Charles’s left arm, and Charles could see the matching and slightly smudged drawings from last night: a pair of daisies with smiling faces representing the two of them. One of the daisies had a speech bubble containing a little heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And every time Charles saw the little sketches on Max’s arm reflected on his own, in the exact same place, all he could think about was how he used to be so excited whenever Max's drawings appeared on his skin, while Max was actually drawing them for...the complete opposite reason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He refused to let either himself or Max be mellow about what had already passed, so he pushed that thought to the back of his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were to leave to catch a bus for the journey back to their old town for spring break; Lando and Daniel were already back in town with their soulmates, and they were to all hang out at Charles’s parents’ beach house for a few days. If he had to be honest, Charles was excited out of his mind, but he decided to enjoy the last moments of peace he had alone with Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Max murmured as he stirred, like the position he’d woken up in, spooning Charles, gave him much to think about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone’s the cuddle master now,” Charles remarked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Max said again, but didn’t unwrap himself from around Charles until a couple of minutes later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he proceeded to fall asleep on Charles’s shoulder during the bus ride, leaving Charles’s cheeks numb with how much he was smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left the best marigolds he could manage to draw on his arm with his limited artistic skills and the shaky bus ride, as a gift for Max when he woke up. And just seeing Max’s reaction made him giddy, thinking about how a year and a half ago, these roles had been reversed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They met Lando and Daniel and their soulmates at that same coffee shop that Max seemed to love so much but could never afford. Lando’s soulmate was a beautiful girl named Maya who was the same height as him, and Daniel’s – Daniel’s soulmate was a boy named Michael who looked a little older than them and was taller than any one of them. He looked big and strong but he looked at Daniel with the softest gaze, like he would crush anything in the world with his bare hands if Daniel wanted him to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The six of them hung out for a while, then Lando and Daniel broke away to show their partners around, so Charles and Max started walking out of town towards home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max didn’t stop when they reached Charles’s place, and Charles had an inkling about where he wanted to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat with Max on the kerb across from Max’s old house. His father was gone now; he’d moved out while Charles and Max were away at university, and the house had been sold to a completely new family with two little children, a boy and a girl. Besides their presence and their laughter littering the space, the house looked exactly the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Max looked across at it, he started to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was soft at first, his sobs barely audible if Charles hadn’t seen his shaking shoulders. He curled up on himself, his head hung almost between his knees, and cried and cried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was free now, his father had gone, and they’d probably never see him again in their lives, but – Charles didn’t think Max would ever truly be free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to go?” Charles whispered. “We can go. Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max shook his head, and his sobs only became heavier. “I need to be here. I know – I know it’s strange, but. I need to be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to face his demons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Charles would rather die than let him do it alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles.” Max didn’t look up at him, but the tone of his voice pleaded with Charles like nothing else in the world. “Can you hold me? Please, I need to feel – I need to feel something else besides...besides this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles held him in the tightest hug he could afford to give, and Max didn’t recoil or resist or pull away, and he didn’t vomit, and Charles had never been prouder of him than he was in those moments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know how long they sat there, rocking gently back and forth, but the other four eventually found them, and stood around them in a half-circle, looking perplexed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Lando asked, “Max, can we hug you too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded against Charles’s shoulder, and Lando dove right in, followed by Daniel, who wrapped up the three of them all together. Maya and Michael, bless their hearts, remained confused, and eventually just shifted a little more aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Max whispered, his sobs slowly turning into little chuckles. “Thank you all so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We love you to bits.” Daniel had never really been that close to Max, so to hear him say those words brought a different kind of warmth to Charles’s heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you guys, too,” Max said. “Lando. Lando, you know I love you, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lando laughed his characteristic loud laugh, and gave Max a few hesitant pats on the head. “Oh, Max. Don’t worry. I know. And you’re safe now, you really are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go to the beach,” Daniel said. “Michael will drive us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael drove them all there in a minivan, the four of them packed more towards the front while Charles and Max hung furthest back in the seats. Max hung his head the whole time, like he was embarrassed he’d cried so long and so hard. But he let Charles hold on to his hand, and that meant more than anything else in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spent some time inside watching TV, then gathered around a campfire on the beach when it was dark, roasting some marshmallows. It was mostly Charles, Lando, and Daniel making hearty conversation, but eventually Max started to join in as well, responding to their little memory snippets with retorts or giggles of his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael and Daniel left for a stroll down the dark beach while Lando and Maya retreated back into their room, leaving Max and Charles alone on the porch in two big comfortable chairs just as the stars were beginning to come out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The constellations Charles could see above them reminded him of their summer astronomy trip, and how it had marked the start of Max starting to draw for him again. And Max’s smile as he leaned back with Charles and gazed up at them – it was unparalleled by any sort of astronomical beauty the universe could ever offer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Charles asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max nodded, though Charles could barely see it in the dark. “Thank you. For everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to thank me, Max.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…” Max sighed. “I’ve never properly thanked you. Since you brought me away last year. I’ve never really thanked you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you so much, Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled up at the stars. “I love you more. And I'm so proud of you, Max. I'm so proud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles. If you’re all I have in this world, I’d still be very, very happy. I’m very, very happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles felt like his heart could explode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat with Max until the rest of them had gone to bed and the house had quietened down. They sat pointing up at constellations they both recognised, listening to the waves hit the shore, and talking about other universes. Other universes where they would still be soulmates, again and again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max described to Charles his favourite ways to paint starry night skies, and though Charles wasn’t so much of an art person himself, the passion with which Max spoke about what he loved never failed to amaze him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only did he have the hands and the mind of an artist, but his thoughts were more beautiful than any art piece that had ever been painted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know, my soulmate's an amazing artist?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max gave a soft chuckle. In the darkness, he reached for Charles's hand and gently intertwined their fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know," he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
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</p>
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